GIFT   OF 


THE  GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM 


THE 


GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 


MA 


BY 


ROBERT   HERRICK 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  MAN  WHO  WINS,"  "LITERARY 
LOVE-LETTERS  AND  OTHER  STORIES  " 


THE    MACMILLAN   COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  LTD. 
1898 

AU  right*  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1898, 
BT  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Norfoooto 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  -  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Man.  U.S.A. 


To 

&fje  UHentorg  of 
P.  S.  A. 

"Somewhere,  surely,  afar, 
In  the  sounding  labour-house  vast 
Of  being,  is  practised  that  strength, 
Zealous,  beneficent,  firm  I " 


257092 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 
PART  I 

CHAPTER   I 

SIMEON  ERARD  tiptoed  deftly  across  the  room,  tugging 
at  his  thin,  sandy  beard.  Fumbling  among  the  curtains 
which  draped  one  corner  of  the  best  light,  he  pulled  the 
cord,  after  carefully  eyeing  his  visitors  to  see  that  all 
were  placed  properly.  The  light  silk  folds  fell  apart, 
revealing  a  small  canvas,  —  a  cool  deep  slit  of  grey  water 
let  into  a  marble  floor,  which  was  cut  in  two  by  the 
languorous  reach  of  a  woman's  back  done  in  hard  green. 
The  large  masses  of  auburn  hair  of  the  bent  head  floated 
on  the  creamy  slab.  The  artist  coughed. 

"  Well ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Anthon,  in  a  puff  of  surprise. 
"  A  bath-room,  I  declare  ! " 

"Is  that  your  exhibition-picture?"  inquired  her 
brother-in-law,  Sebastian  Anthon,  a  little  dubiously. 
Erard  took  no  notice  of  these  wavering  remarks.  To 
him  they  were  the  necessary  comment  of  the  world,  to 
which  he  habitually  paid  as  marked  disrespect  as  he 
dared. 

"You  see,  don't  you,  Miss  Anthon,"  his  voice  was 
persuasively  patronizing,  "  what  I  have  tried  to  do  ? 
You  grasp  the  difficulties,  don't  you  ?  Of  course  to  the 


2  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

crowd  it's  nothing  but  a  modern  bath,  half  full  of  water, 
with  a  young  woman  in  it,  whose  hair  is  red.  But  you 
see  the  vigor  of  that  leg,  the  coolness  of  that  water  shot 
with  light.  You  feel  it.  The  artist  —  and  the  rare  per 
son  —  will  stop  before  that  picture ;  he  will  know  what  it 
means.  And  the  artist  paints  for  the  artist;  shouldn't 
he,  Miss  Anthon  ?  " 

The  young  woman  thus  distinguished  by  the  special 
appeal  waived  the  responsibility  of  assent  to  the  last 
proposition.  But  she  moved  away  from  the  little  group 
of  suspicious  critics,  drawing  near  to  the  picture,  as  if 
she  were  willing  to  represent  the  sympathetic  intelligence. 

"Yes,"  she  murmured  slyly,  "that  leg  half  in  the 
water,  half  out,  is  subtle.  The  flesh  gives  itself  to  the 
coolness." 

Mrs.  Anthon  began  ostentatiously  to  use  her  lorgnette 
on-  the  room.  Sebastian  Anthon  turned  one  or  two 
canvases  to  the  light. 

"Ah!"  the  young  artist  responded,  "my  dear  Miss 
Anthon,  you  are  the  right  sort ;  you  understand.  Don't 
you  feel  that  back  rippling  into  the  new  medium  ?  To 
do  the  little  bit  where  the  lights  change,"  he  indicated 
hastily  a  patch  of  rough  brush  work,  "that  was  the 
keenest  delight  of  the  past  year,  the  best  minutes  of 
intense  existence,  and  for  that  we  artists  live,  don't  we  ?  " 

The  girl  half  smiled  as  if  something  vaguely  humorous 
crossed  her  mind,  yet  again  her  impulse  was  to  take  his 
part  against  his  antipathetic  fellow-countrymen. 

"Well,  that  cornfield  didn't  grow  in  the  States,  I'd 
bet ! "  This  ejaculation  came  from  a  young  man,  who  had 


THE   GOSPEL    OF   FREEDOM  O 

unearthed  a  sketch  in  bright  yellows.  He  stood  with 
his  cane  behind  his  back,  his  light  coat  thrown  open,  in 
an  attitude  of  eager  expectation,  and  anxiety  to  lose  noth 
ing  that  was  going  on,  while  hunting  for  appropriate 
expression.  The  dull  Paris  sunlight  of  a  November 
afternoon  sobered  the  robust  hue  of  his  face  and  his 
broad  hands.  "Eh!"  Erard  remarked  indifferently, 
"that's  a  sketch  I  made  in  Calabria,  an  effort  in  yel 
lows."  He  turned  the  canvas  back  to  the  wall,  as  if  he  ^ 
would  take  from  a  child  a  fragile  toy. 

"This  impressionistic  business  is  beyond  me,"  the  N 
young  man  remarked  detiantly^  addressing  Mrs.  Anthon  ' 
for  support. 

"Adela  hasn't  done  much  in  it  yet,"  Mrs.  Anthon 
answered.  "You  know,  Mr.  Wilbur,  she's  at  Jerome's. 
He's  good  for  the  drawing,  they  say,  and  then  he  has  so 
many  studios,  and  one  is  up  our  way,  just  behind  the 
Madeleine.  And  Jerome  has  such  a  good  class  of  young 
women.  I  couldn't  have  Adela  running  about  and  liv 
ing  as  the  common  art-students  do.  No  Trilby  stuff 
for  me,  I  said  to  Sebastian,  when  he  advised  me  to  take 
Adela  over  here  and  let  her  have  a  chance  to  culture 
herself.  Adela  rather  wanted  to  try  it  by  herself  for  a 
year,  but  her  father  made  her  keep  on  at  Bryn  Mawr, 
that  school  down  near  Baltimore,  where  they  wear  caps 
and  gowns.  But  when  her  father  died, —  her  elder 
brother  was  married  and  living  out  to  Denver,  and 
Walter  was  just  finishing  school  at  Harvard, —  I  said  I 
couldn't  be  left  alone.  What  are  children  good  for,  if 
they're  going  to  run  away  to  college  and  to  art-schools? 


4  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

It  is  bad  enough  to  have  them  marry,  but  a  girl,  when 
she  isn't  obliged  to  work, —  and  Addie  won't  have  to 
teach,  I  guess  —  " 

Mrs.  Anthon  was  fast  unwinding  her  philosophy  of 
life,  in  the  sympathetic  manner  of  Western  Americans, 
that  takes  for  granted  a  neighbour's  interest  in  one's 
affairs  and  does  not  comprehend  reticence.  Wilbur 
was  apparently  interested.  But  Miss  Anthon,  who  had 
practised  the  power  of  watching  ever  for  her  mother's 
garrulous  tongue,  while  she  attended  to  other  matters, 
interfered. 

"  Mr.  Erard  will  show  us  his  den,  mamma.  Isn't  the 
apartment  delightful  and  interesting  ?  It's  an  old  swell's 
house.  Louis  seize  complete,  just  as  it  was,  without  any 
change.  Mr.  Erard  found  it  quite  by  accident,  he  says, 
one  day  when  he  was  wandering  about  in  this  quarter 
among  the  convents.  He  came  down  a  side  lane  that 
runs  into  the  rue  Vaugirard.  Just  as  he  was  leaving  it, 
his  eye  happened  to  fall  upon  that  old  cypress  in  the 
court.  He  prowled  about  and  found  this  nest." 

Animation  returned  once  more  to  the  party.  Erard 
led  them  from  the  studio  —  a  fine  old  room,  with  open- 
timbered  ceiling,  left  almost  ostentatiously  bare  —  into 
the  adjoining  salon.  In  the  sombre  studio  there  had 
been  only  the  warm  woodwork;  here  were  many  living 
qualities, —  the  lofty  windows  hung  with  dark  stuffs, 
the  fireplace  adorned  by  a  delicate  relief  of  nymphs.  In 
one  corner  was  a  spinet,  and  along  the  sides  of  the  room 
couches,  with  a  few  low  tables  and  aristocratic  chairs. 
Some  little  bronzes,  one  or  two  pastels,  and  a  cast  of  a 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  FKEEDOM  5 

group  by  a  young  American  sculptor,  completed  the 
obvious  contents. 

The  ladies  exclaimed.  Wilbur  observed  thoughtfully, 
"I  should  think  you  would  rattle  around  a  little." 

"Ah!  I  don't  live  here,"  Erard  answered  airily,  push 
ing  open  the  large  folding  doors  beside  the  fireplace. 
"  This  is  my  den,  and  beyond  are  the  bedrooms." 

The  inner  room  was  of  the  same  dignified  height  as 
the  rest  of  the  apartment.  A  bit  of  tapestry  on  one 
side,  and  shelves  for  books  and  photographs  on  another, 
hid  the  walls.  In  one  corner  was  a  simple  ormolu 
table,  where  notes  lay  half-opened,  and  beside  it  a 
lounge.  A  few  high-backed  chairs,  each  one  a  precious 
find,  were  ranged  like  solemn  lackeys  along  the  walls. 
A  second  piece  of  tapestry  cut  off  a  dimly  lighted  alcove, 
where  a  bed  of  state  could  be  seen, —  "  also  of  the  period," 
as  Erard  remarked  complacently.  The  visitors  were  still 
admiring  when  the  servant  opened  the  door  into  the 
dining  salon. 

"We  will  have  some  punch,"  Erard  sighed,  throwing 
himself  into  the  deep  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  in 
which  his  small  figure  seemed  engulfed.  While  Pierre, 
like  an  attentive  mouse,  passed  the  punch  and  cakes,  the 
Americans  let  their  eyes  roam  over  the  room.  It  was 
sombre  with  heavy  furniture,  but  scrupulously  confined 
to  "the  period,"  from  the  few  plates  that  looked  down 
from  the  lofty  sideboard,  to  the  andirons  on  the  hearth. 

"An  ideal  nest,"  Miss  Anthon  murmured. 

"Your  man  makes  such  good  punch,"  Mrs.  Anthon 
added. 


6  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"You  must  have  put  a  mine  into  this,"  Wilbur  com 
mented,  as  he  sipped  his  punch.  "Fixed  it  up  for  a 
permanent  residence?" 

"Ah!  I  can't  say,"  the  artist  replied  negligently. 
"Paris  bores  me  a  good  deal.  I  do  my  best  work  at 
Giverney  or  San  Geminiano.  This  is  a  kind  of  office." 

"Not  much  like  the  old  garret  where  genius  was  once 
supposed  to  blossom,"  Sebastian  Anthon  reflected  in  his 
weary  voice,  as  if  making  propositions  for  himself. 

Erard  moved  uneasily.  The  gentle  old  man's  remark 
contained  a  special  sting. 

"That  doesn't  go  nowadays.  .  To  do  his  best  work, 
the  workman  must  have  his  proper  atmosphere.  It  was 
all  well  enough  in  the  Renaissance  for  those  old  fellows 
to  bang  about;  there  was  so  much  going  on  that  was 
inspiring;  so  much  beauty  in  the  world!  But  to-day  he 
must  cover  himself  up  from  the  horrid  impressions  of 
reality.  If  he  fought  with  cold  and  hunger  and  bad 
wall-paper,  and  all  that,  he  would  never  be  fit  for  his 
fine  work.  Either  the  harsh  actualities  would  blunt  his 
sensitiveness,  or  he  would  show  that  he  hadn't  any,  that 
he  wasn't  of  the  temperament." 

Erard  turned  from  the  attentive  old  man  to  the  young 
woman,  whose  fortune  of  contemporaneous  birth  might 
render  her  intelligent  to  the  force  of  his  remarks. 
Moreover,  she  was  a  woman,  and  Simeon  Erard's  strong 
point  was  his  management  of  women.  He  got  at  them 
on  impersonal,  sexless  grounds.  His  rambling  physique 
and  flattened  face  were  almost  repulsive,  and  he  had 
never  quite  lost  the  traces  of  the  dull  back  alley  in 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  7 

Jersey  City,  whence  he  had  emerged  upon  the  circle 
of  patrons  and  patronesses  who  were  to  attend  him  on 
towards  fame.  With  a  subtle  insight  into  his  own 
resources,  he  knew  that  women  would  always  be  useful 
to  him ;  that  they  were  most  excellent  working-partners 
of  fame.  (To  have  a  chorus  of  women  at  your  command 
was  like  subsidizing  the  pressj)  it  was  a  dangerous 
weapon  to  use,  but  its  range  was  incalculable.  And  in 
manipulating  women  he  was  skilful  enough  to  exclude 
the  sexual  basis.  He  never  appeared  to  them  in  the 
light  of  a  possible  husband  or  lover.  Further,  he  never 
included  a  stupid  woman  in  his  chorus  merely  because 
she  made  court  to  him. 

Just  now  it  seemed  to  him  better  worth  while  securing 
a  new  ally  than  opening  the  dangerous  question  started 
by  the  old  man.  So  he  led  the  party  back  to  the  salon 
and  begged  Miss  Anthon  to  try  the  spinet.  While  he 
explained  the  working  of  the  instrument,  he  threw  out 
casually  some  remarks  about  music.  The  young  woman 
struck  a  few  thin  chords,  that  rustled  like  yellowed 
parchment  in  the  lofty  room;  her  glance  followed  the 
artist  as  he  looked  after  his  guests. 

Now  he  was  talking  to  Wilbur,  who  was  eagerly  loqua 
cious.  She  could  catch  phrases :  "...  run  over  for  a  few 
months  .  .  .  business  dull  .  .  .  had  a  chance  to  be  fixed 
up  in  a  little  job  .  .  .  pretty  good  place  .  .  .  am  a  Uni 
versity  of  Michigan  man."  Erard's  little  eyes  were 
coolly  judging  the  expansive  young  man,  assigning  him 
to  his  species,  and  calculating  the  exact  amount  of  sig 
nificance  he  might  contain. 


8  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

Who  was  this  Erard?  She  had  heard  her  mother 
refer  often  enough  to  Sebastian  Anthon's  " folly"  over 
that  "  painter-fellow  "  he  had  picked  up  in  New  York  as 
a  tutor  for  his  daughter.  She  remembered  many  little 
details  of  his  career :  how  her  uncle  had  found  him  in  a 
print-shop  behind  the  counter,  and  had  encouraged  him 
in  his  efforts  to  worm  his  way  through  the  art-school. 
Later  he  had  come  to  Sebastian  Anthon's  summer  home, 
on  the  half-intimate  footing  of  a  tutor,  and  she  remem 
bered  to  have  seen  him  there,  —  a  sullen,  ugly  lad,  with 
his  material  and  stupid  charge.  Then  Erard  had  gone 
abroad,  first  with  Uncle  Sebastian,  then  again  for  a  long 
period  by  himself.  And  her  mother  accused  him  of 
"  getting  Sebastian  to  waste  good  money  on  pictures  and 
such  stuff." 

She  was  not  aware  that  Erard  had  done  much  to  justify 
all  the  Anthon  money  that  had  gone  into  his  career.  At 
least  if  you  counted  by  tangible  evidences !  She  did  not 
know  that  one  of  the  first  precepts  which  the  protege 
had  inculcated  had  been  that  you  should  not  count  by 
vulgar  or  tangible  proofs,  such  as  books  published,  pict 
ures  painted  and  sold,  articles  appearing  in  magazines, 
with  accompanying  checks  and  drafts. 

For  Erard's  initial  ambition  —  to  paint  —  had  ex 
panded  in  the  atmosphere  of  Paris,  until  now  it  would 
be  hard  to  say  just  where  he  proposed  to  apply  his  force. 
A  professorship  in  aesthetics,  the  editorship  of  a  magazine 
devoted  to  the  arts,  the  curatorship  of  a  museum, —  one 
or  all,  might  have  satisfied  his  present  ambition.  Yet 
he  had  never  quite  abandoned  actual  creative  work.  Now 


THE  GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  9 

and  then,  whenever  Sebastian  Anthon  was  becoming  un 
usually  restless,  some  one  "  evidence  "  appeared  to  justify 
the  interest  that  old  Anthon  was  taking  in  him.  Some 
clever  article  on  the  Salons  for  an  American  journal,  a 
little  essay  on  an  early  Italian  master  in  an  English 
magazine,  a  portrait  of  Mrs.  George  Payne, — the  editor's 
young  wife,  —  which  set  the  American  colony  in  Paris 
agog  with  talk;  at  the  worst,  some  bit  of  encouraging  gos 
sip  from  "a  man  who  knew."  Perhaps  Erard  had  been 
right  in  not  forcing  himself;  Sebastian  Anthon  shivered 
at  the  thought  of  how  he  himself  had  been  forced. 

It  had  been  superb  in  its  way,  Erard's  campaign  thus 
far,  or  preparation  for  campaign.  Once  in  Paris,  the 
very  pavement  seemed  familiar  to  him,  the  air  in  the 
streets  to  be  intimate.  "You  are  one  of  us,"  it  whis 
pered.  He  prepared  leisurely  to  realize  far-reaching 
projects.  He  was  never  idle,  and  he  was  rarely  dissi 
pated.  Quite  early,  it  is  probable,  he  suspected  that  his  ; 
organism  was  not  the  artist's ;  his  blood  was  too  thin. 
But  his  power  was  to  comprehend,  to  enjoy  and  relate. 
Or,  to  use  the  phrase  that  he  found  for  his  patron,  "  to 
know  the  background."  So  he  had  had  the  audacity  to 
proceed  from  capital  to  capital,  establishing  large  siege- 
lines, —  the  audacity,  when  to-morrrow  might  find  him 
at  the  pawn-shop  with  nothing  to  pawn.  Perhaps  he 
knew  his  world  better  than  most ;  had  he  had  more  scru 
pulous  doubts,  he  would  have  failed  at  the  outset. 

To-day  he  had  asked  the  Anthons  to  see  his  apart 
ment  and  his  new  picture  ;  for  he  still  painted,  cleverly 
aware  that  the  world,  after  all,  pays  a  certain  homage 


10  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

to  the  mystery  of  creation  that  it  denies  to  mere  know 
ledge.  His  guests,  however,  seemed  to  be  impressed 
more  with  the  apartment  in  which  he  had  enveloped  him 
self,  by  the  very  vulgar  facts  of  physical  appointments, 
than  by  his  excellent  picture.  The  afternoon  had  en 
gendered  a  moral  opposition  which  he  must  overcome  in 
some  way.  Sebastian  Anthon  was  especially  necessary 
to  him  just  now;  he  must  spend  this  winter  in  Spain. 
And  he  would  like  to  have  this  nice  old  man  fall  in  with 
the  plan,  even  if  it  necessitated  including  his  niece,  and, 
at  the  worst,  the  voluble  lady  her  mother. 

That  person  could  be  heard,  above  the  notes  of  the 
spinet,  in  her  monologue  to  the  patient  Wilbur.  "I 
shall  take  Adela  to  Aix-les-Bains  as  soon  as  the  season 
opens.  I  tell  her  that  what  she  wants  is  to  know 
people,  to  meet  pleasant  friends,  not  to  spend  her  year 
over  here  fooling  about  in  a  studio.  I  guess  she  hasn't 
any  great  talent.  Walter  has  set  his  heart  on  making  a 
writer  of  himself,  and  I  guess  one  genius  in  the  family 
is  enough."  The  purple  bows  on  Mrs.  Anthon's  new 
Parisian  hat  tossed  in  time  with  the  vehement  workings 
of  her  short,  thick  body.  She  had  settled  into  an  aggres 
sive  pace. 

Erard  paused  for  a  moment  by  her  side,  and  then,  as 
the  music  faded  out,  stepped  back  to  Miss  Anthon.  Her 
face,  which  was  turned  towards  the  light,  wore  a  look 
of  tolerance,  and  the  restless  tapping  of  one  foot  upon 
the  marquetry  betrayed  a  stifled  criticism  of  her  mother's 
chatter. 

The  young  artist  noted  that  the  moulding  of  the  face 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  11 

had  been  begun  freely  and  graciously.  Nothing  was 
final.  It  might  be  interesting  to  know  where  the  next 
few  years  would  place  the  emphasis.  Meantime  the 
impulse  of  life  was  throbbing  in  that  face  actively,  gener 
ously.  To  feel,  to  understand,  and  —  what  is  more  — 
to  act  swiftly, —  a  promise  of  such  powers  it  held  forth. 

"You  are  working  here?"  Erard  observed.  Miss 
Anthon  turned  to  him  with  relief. 

"Oh!  fooling,  as  the  rest  do.  It  seems  so  utterly 
silly,  but  it  is  better  than  shopping  perpetually,  or  run 
ning  about  to  see  things  you  don't  understand." 

"  Did  you  do  much  —  earlier?  "  Erard  assumed  easily 
the  catechist's  place. 

"Nover —  much  —  of  anything,"  she  confessed  slowly. 
"  But  I  liked  it  awfully,  only  papa  wanted  me  to  have  a 
sound  education  first." 

"Quite  wise  —  that  papa." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  the  chances  are  that  you  may  know  some 
thing  some  day,  but  there  isn't  much  chance  of  your 
ever  doing  anything." 

Miss  Anthon  flushed  at  this  cool  estimation  of  her 
range  by  her  uncle's  protege.  Yet  her  good  sense  and 
her  curiosity  kept  her  from  betraying  any  foolish  annoy 
ance,  and  the  two  were  soon  far  on  in  an  intimate 
conversation.  Erard's  finality  in  judgments,  and  his 
conjuror's  trick  of  knowing  all  about  herself  without 
detailed  confession,  impressed  Miss  Anthon. 

At  last  the  visitors  gathered  themselves  up,  and  Mrs. 
Anthon  said  a  distant  good-by  to  their  host.  Miss 


12  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

Anthon  added  to  her  mother's  conventionally  expressed 
hope  that  they  might  see  Erard  again,  a  pointed  invita 
tion.     "Come  and  show  me  what  I  ought  to  know." 
"Would  you  care  to  see  Degas's  new  picture?" 
The  girl  answered  with  a  look,  with  a  nutter  of  aston 
ishment.     Who  was  this  young  man  who  could  take  her 
to  Degas's  studio?     As  they  moved  into  the  hall,  Erard 
found  an  opportunity  to  hand  her  the  last  Revue  Inter 
nationale.     "  Perhaps  you  will  care  to  look  this  over  ; 
it's  an  article  on  Degas  I  wrote  last  spring." 

Then  Pierre,  the  solemn  man-servant,  appeared  with 
an  old  horn  lantern,  pulled  back  the  long  iron  bolt,  and 
prepared  to  escort  the  guests  to  the  courtyard.  In  the 
hall  a  slender  crane,  supporting  a  flickering  candle, 
reached  out  above  the  stairs.  Erard  stood  under  its 
shrine-like  glimmer,  wafting  courtly  cordialities  to  the 
descending  guests.  As  Miss  Anthon  passed  the  bend  in 
the  stairs  Pierre's  lantern  threw  a  dash  of  light  upon  her 
dark  strong  form,  while  the  plumes  in  her  hat  made 
magnificent  shadows  upon  the  stone  walls.  She  swung 
her  loose  cape  about  her,  as  a  young  officer  years  before 
might  have  wrapped  himself  in  his  military  cloak  before 
venturing  into  the  night-blast  below.  She  looked  up  at 
him  and  smiled  with  the  frank  recognition  one  gives  to 
a  possible  master.  The  last  sound  Erard  heard,  as  the 
great  doors  creaked  open  below,  was  Mrs.  Anthon's  shrill 
babble  about  dinner. 


CHAPTER  II 

LEAVING  Wilbur  and  Mrs.  Anthon  to  find  a  cab,  Miss 
Antlion  and  her  uncle  proceeded  across  the  Quarter  by 
silent  side  streets,  the  old  man  turning  instinctively  here 
and  there,  until  suddenly  they  canie  out  on  the  Luxem 
bourg  gardens. 

"I  used  to  live  up  there,"  Mr.  Anthon  remarked, 
pointing  towards  a  deserted  alley,  "  in  number  75.  That 
was  before  your  father  was  married,  when  the  family 
were  living  in  New  York.  Father  gave  each  of  us  five 
thousand  dollars  when  we  came  of  age.  John  went  to 
St.  Louis  and  began  the  brick  business.  I  came  over 
here  —  " 

"Why  did  you  give  this  up?"  his  niece  asked  eagerly, 
with  a  renewed  appreciation  of  the  artist's  delights. 

Sebastian  Anthon  turned  his  blue  eyes  to  her  wonder- 
ingly.  "John  thought  it  best.  Art  wasn't  much  of  a 
career  then,  and  your  father  rather  managed  all  of  us. 
We  had  good  times  in  soixante-quinze,"  he  added  mus 
ingly,  standing  still  to  peer  up  at  the  maze  of  broken 
roofs. 

The  girl  followed  his  gaze  sympathetically.  She  could 
suspect  a  little  more  of  the  story  than  the  old  man's 
words  tolr1  She  had  felt  the  iron  will  that  until  two 
years  ag  when  death  stepped  in,  had  governed  the 

13 


14  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

Anthons.  The  elder  brother's  practical  power,  his 
intolerance,  his  indomitable  activity,  had  bent  them  all. 
His  little  brick  business  had  expanded,  until  all  the 
j  I  Anthons,  root  and  branch,  were  brick-makers,  and  each 
*  "member  of  the  family  had  his  block  of  brick-stock.  The 
boys,  as  they  came  along,  were  drafted  into  the  business 
at  twenty,  and  the  women  were  pensioned  off.  John 
Anthon  had  governed  the  state  in  St.  Louis  j  Sebastian 
had  been  his  protesting  but  faithful  satrap  in  New 
York. 

When  John  died,  leaving  bricks  at  200,  with  regular 
12  per  cent  dividends,  the  business  so  ably  managed  that 
it  might  run  on  until  man  had  no  further  need  for  bricks, 
or  clay  was  exhausted,  Sebastian  Anthon  slyly  withdrew 
from  his  post  and  looked  about  for  amusement  for  his 
declining  years.  He  remembered  wistfully  how  he  had 
once  thought  of  a  garret  room  in  Paris,  of  long  days  in 
Barbazon ;  he  could  not  paint  now,  and  so  he  had  taken 
to  buying  pictures. 

"And  that  was  why  you  helped  Mr.  Erard,"  his  niece 
insinuated  thoughtfully. 

The  old  man  nodded,  and  added  half  apologetically, 
"He  can  have  the  life,  the  hope, —  even  if  he  doesn't 
do  much."  Perhaps  Erard  had  grown  to  look  upon  him 
as  a  skilful  financial  agent,  who  provided  both  capital 
and  interest.  This  attitude  might  be  immoral,  but  the 
patron  received  his  compensation. 

"But  he  has  done  something;  he  will  do  something," 
the  young  woman  replied  buoyantly. 

"It's  a  growth  that  becomes  sterile  easily  —  terribly 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  15 

easily,"  her  uncle  mused.  "Perhaps  one  can't  assist 
nature,  yet  to  have  the  chance,  that  is  the  great  thing." 
He  looked  once  more  wistfully  over  the  roofs,  and  then 
turned  into  the  gardens.  He  stopped  again  as  they  came 
out  behind  the  palace,  with  its  gracious  facade  just  visi 
ble  in  the  twilight  and  fog.  "  I  used  to  come  out  here 
to  walk.  There  was  more  going  on  then  everywhere  — 
students  and  politics.  You  never  knew  what  might 
happen." 

When  they  reached  Foyot's  they  found  Wilbur  and 
Mrs.  Anthon  already  at  their  oysters.  Seated  at  table 
with  them  was  a  blond  young  man,  Mrs.  Anthon's 
youngest  son,  who  was  examining  carefully  the  wine- 
card.  As  his  sister  came  in,  he  glanced  up  with  the 
remark,  — 

"Well,  what  did  you  think  of  Uncle  Seb's  little  JewT 
Wilbur  and  mamma  have  been  slanging  him  ever  since 
they  came  in." 

Mrs.  Anthon  broke  out  at  once.  "Your  young  friend 
seems  to  have  made  himself  comfortable,  Sebastian.  I 
suppose  painting  bath-tubs  must  pay  pretty  well.  I 
must  say,  and  I  am  no  prude,  as  you  know,  Sebastian, 
that  I  can't  understand  all  this  loose  art.  What  good  is 
it  for  an  American  to  come  over  here  and  learn  to  paint 
naked  women  in  a  bath-tub,  so  that  you  can  see  the  water 
swashing  about?  They  can't  sell  such  things  in  America. 
It's  well  enough  for  once  in  a  while  to  see  'em  over  here, 
but  we  don't  want  that  kind  of  picture  to  hang  up  in  our 
homes.  I  used  to  say  to  John,  buy  good  pleasing  copies, 
something  that's  elevating,  or  nice  country  scenes,  but 


16  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

don't  bring  any  of  that  modern  French  trash  into  my 
parlours." 

The  soup  arriving  just  then,  Wilbur  had  his  chance. 

"That's  so,  Mrs.  Anthon.  But  I  suppose  they  are 
after  something.  Erard  seems  a  clever  fellow;  he  be 
lieves  in  himself  hard  enough,  and  that's  the  way  to  get 
there.  I  must  say,  though,  that  I  have  never  found  a 
young  fellow  who  got  much  permanent  improvement  out 
of  this  foreign  business.  That  wasn't  the  way  with  our 
fathers,  or  with  our  high-class  literary  men  to-day. 
They  made  their  way  first  and  came  over  here  later  on 
to  polish  off.  Isn't  that  about  so,  Mr.  Anthon?" 

Sebastian  Anthon  made  no  reply.  He  was  watching 
two  young  fellows  seated  on  the  leather  couch  near  the 
window.  They  were  gesticulating  and  pounding  the 
table,  emitting  dynamic  words, —  la  loi,  morale,  vrais 
enthusiasmes. 

"  Mr.  Erard  is  quite  the  most  interesting  man  I  have 
ever  met,"  Miss  Anthon  pronounced  dogmatically,  irri 
tated  by  the  bearish  atmosphere.  "I  can't  quite  see 
why  we  Americans,  who  are  always  whooping  for  suc 
cess,  and  pardon  everything  if  it  only  leads  to  our  ends, 
should  have  so  many  doubts  about  that  same  selfishness 
when  used  for  other  things  than  getting  dollars  or  going 
into  politics.  We  are  dreadfully  moral  as  soon  as  it 
comes  to  art  or  to  anything  that  doesn't  give  a  bank 
account.  If  I  were  a  man  without  a  cent,  I  would  do 
precisely  what  Mr.  Erard  has  done  —  make  the  world 
support  me." 

"  Live  on  charity  ?  "  Wilbur  exclaimed  sharply. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  17 

"  The  eternal  discussion/'  Walter  Anthon  put  in,  as  if 
bored.  Hitherto  he  had  confined  himself  to  ordering 
and  testing  his  dinner. 

"  Yes,  why  not  ? "  Miss  Anthon  continued  pugna 
ciously.  "If  I  gave  them  something  back  in  return, 
some  new  sensations  or  ideas.  Don't  you  agree  with 
me,  Uncle  Seb?" 

Sebastian  Anthon  had  been  sipping  his  wine  medita 
tively,  ignoring  alike  the  food  and  the  talk.  "I  was 
thinking,"  he  said  tranquilly,  "that  just  thirty-eight 
years  ago  last  June,  I  took  my  last  dinner  in  Paris  over 
there  where  those  fellows  are  sitting.  It's  changed  since 
then,  — I  mean  the  world."  This  reflection  appeased  the 
argumentative  temper,  and  talk  died  out. 

"I  am  going  to  hear  Yvette  Guilbert,"  at  last  an 
nounced  young  Anthon,  with  something  of  a  swagger. 
"Will  you  go,  Wilbur?" 

Wilbur  responded  by  a  conscious  smile  and  then  glanced 
at  the  others.  "  What  would  the  ladies  say  ?  " 

"Walter  wouldn't  think  it  nice  if  we  were  to  go/' 
Miss  Anthon  answered.  "I  will  go  some  other  time, — 
when  we  are  all  developed." 

Walter  looked  at  his  sister  suspiciously.  "They  are 
doing  that  kind  of  thing  in  London,  but  it's  safer  not. 
I  shouldn't  care  to  meet  my  friends  —  " 

Miss  Anthon  waved  her  hand  deprecatingly.  She 
had  heard  a  good  deal  about  her  brother's  friends.  He 
had  started  "a  literary  career"  in  London,  very  favor 
ably,  with  a  thin  volume  of  verse,  some  good  letters  of 
introduction,  and  a  pleasant  manner. 
c 


18  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"Well,  you  won't  come,  Wilbur?  I  shall  be  busy 
to-morrow,  mother.  Will  see  you  some  time  this  week. 
Good-night." 

Walter  Anthon  selected  his  coat  and  stalked  off.  Mrs. 
Anthon  looked  after  him  wistfully,  as  if  half  inclined  to 
follow  her  boy.  Instead  the  party  drifted  into  a  cab  and 
were  put  down  by  the  boulevards.  Their  evenings  usually 
concluded  like  this  at  a  cafe,  or,  more  rarely,  at  the  opera. 

The  boulevard  resounded,  like  an  animated  river,  cours 
ing  on  swiftly,  temptingly.  The  crowd,  even  on  this 
dull  November  evening,  was  hurrying  past,  keenly  alive 
about  something,  —  but  Miss  Anthon  was  obliged  to  sit 
at  the  little  table  beside  the  throng,  an  ignorant  outsider. 
The  scene  was  perpetually  alluring  her  to  experiment 
in  new  fields,  yet  she  could  never  tread  the  pavement, 
mistress  of  herself.  This  life  of  idly  running  hither 
and  thither  was  merely  irritating.  The  longing  to  escape 
from  her  mother,  who  lived  in  another  kind  of  world, 
even  from  her  uncle  and  Wilbur,  who  were  not  quite  in 
place  in  Paris,  increased  until  her  nerves  were  sore. 

She  had  never  felt  this  rebellion  in  St.  Louis.  Out  of 
the  general  blur  of  her  past  life  one  important  figure 
loomed  everywhere,  dominated  everything,  —  her  father, 
John  Anthon.  That  angular,  hard-headed  man  had  in 
many  ways  substituted  his  daughter  for  his  wife.  She 
could  comprehend,  now  that  her  mother  was  cut  off  from 
the  usual  outlets  of  neighbourly  gossip,  how  wearisome 
Mrs.  Anthon  must  have  become  to  the  silent  persistent 
man,  who  had  engineered  all  their  fortunes  to  such  com 
fortable  ends.  She  realized  that  she  had  gone  to  this 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  19 

father  for  understanding.  He  was  her  confidant  in  her 
experiences  in  the  little  social  pool  of  St.  Louis.  He 
had  taught  her  to  read  intelligently,  had  provided  her 
with  tutors;  to  escape  the  nonsense  of  girls'  schools, 
he  had  sent  her  to  Bryn  Mawr  "  in  the  hope  that  when 
middle-life  came  she  would  have  a  few  more  resources 
than  her  mother."  His  standards  of  vitriolic  common 
sense  had  influenced  her  girlish  choice  of  friends,  had 
carried  her  safely  through  the  silly  years. 

He  was  honest,  she  knew,  he  was  direct;  he  believed 
in  the  gospel  of  work ;  he  endured  much  in  the  family ; 
he  never  had  an  idea  devoid  of  effort.  His  life  had 
been  one  prolonged  battle  that  wrung  him  to  the  last 
reserve  of  strength.  There  had  been  little  joy  in  it  but 
the  joy  of  success. 

It  was  gaunt,  that  ideal ! 

Yet  all  this  she  had  accepted  as  a  type  of  what  a  man 
should  be,  of  how  he  should  treat  himself.  Moreover, 
she  reasoned  that  a  woman  should  not  be  spared  the  full 
rigours  of  the  game.  Of  course  the  actualities  of  daily 
living  were  disagreeable,  but  any  one  who  sought  to 
shirk  those  necessities,  who  sought  to  take  his  existence 
out  of  the  mill  where  fate  had  fixed  him,  was  a  mere 
trifler. 

Was  she  quite  sure  of  that  truth,  after  this  day? 

When  that  father  died,  the  demand  for  sacrifice  had 
come  through  her  mother,  and  she  had  not  questioned 
it.  What  she  had  gone  to  Bryn  Mawr  for  was  not  per 
sonal  gratification  —  at  least,  she  thought  not  —  but 
equipment.  She  must  respond  to  events,  as  her  father 


20  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

had  done  many  years  ago  when  he  took  the  Anthon 
affairs  in  hand,  without  disguising  the  unpleasant  con 
sequences  to  herself. 

It  was  a  primitive  religion  blindly  taught  and  blindly 
followed. 

Just  what  could  she  do  for  her  mother,  now  that  she 
had  made  this  sacrifice  of  her  independence?  Her 
brothers  had  expected  it;  in  the  general  emotional 
drawing  together  of  the  family  after  Mr.  Anthon's  death, 
it  had  not  seemed  so  impossible.  Had  her  father,  how 
ever,  expected  it?  He  had  left  her  an  independent 
fortune.  There  might  be  an  implication  in  that  fact. 

St.  Louis,  without  that  father  and  without  any  definite 
goal  except  to  make  herself  companionable  to  her  mother, 
had  soon  become  intolerable.  The  college  youths,  home 
for  vacation,  appeared  more  childish  than  ever;  the  staid 
young  men  in  business,  more  wooden.  In  desperation, 
one  day,  she  found  herself  on  the  point  of  accepting  a 
young  lawyer,  for  the  sole  reason,  when  she  paused  to 
reflect,  that  he  agreed  with  her  in  finding  St.  Louis  arid. 
The  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  present  turbulent  gener 
ation  had  toiled  out  their  days,  and  at  night  had  been 
content  to  sit  dully  on  the  great  stone  stoops,  or  in  the 
stuffy  parlours,  merely  idle,  until  the  morrow  of  renewed 
effort.  The  children  had  their  energy,  and  yet  refused 
the  old  task.  So,  naturally  enough,  she  had  entered  into 
Sebastian  Anthon's  plan  of  a  year  in  Europe,  —  a  con 
venient  solution  for  every  American  family  in  doubt  or 
distress. 

The  file  of  carriages  had  thinned  out;  the  theatres 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM  21 

had  opened.  Waiters  were  standing  listlessly  in  the 
doors  of  the  cafes.  Mrs.  Anthon  was  saying,  — 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Sebastian,  over  that  fellow.  He  is 
a  worthless  young  man.  I  told  you  five  years  ago, 
'Sebastian,  you  are  perverting  that  young  man.  Give 
him  a  place  in  the  brick  company,  and  let  him  earn  his 
salt,  as  you  have  done,  as  John  did.7  But  you  were 
weak  and  amiable,  and  the  Erard  kind  get  around  you." 

Miss  Anthon  smiled  at  the  idea  of  Erard  in  bricks. 
Moreover,  wasn't  all  this  talk  about  Mr.  Simeon  Erard's 
manner  of  livelihood  rather  vulgar  and  impertinent? 
Here  in  Paris  it  was  easy  to  slip  away  from  her  harsh 
creed  of  common  prejudices.  Erard  seemed  to  her  the 
most  interesting  figure  on  her  horizon,  and  she  was  tempted 
to  accept  him  for  what  he  could  give  her,  for  what  he  had 
given  her  already. 

She  rose  hastily,  stifled,  eager  to  step  out  on  the 
boulevard,  to  follow  the  throng.  "I  will  walk  back  to 
the  hotel,  mamma,  if  Mr.  Wilbur  will  go  with  me." 

The  young  man  got  up  with  an  air  of  relief,  and  the 
two  started  down  the  boulevard  in  the  direction  of  the 
Avenue  de  1' Opera.  He  offered  her  his  arm  awkwardly, 
noticing  that  the  other  men  and  women  were  prome 
nading  linked  together.  Miss  Anthon  laughed:  "We're 
Americans  and  needn't  do  it ! " 

She  strode  out,  every  muscle  responding  joyously,  after 
the  inert  hours.  Her  eyes  turned  here  and  there,  in 
specting  the  faces  in  the  cafes,  the  crowded  omnibuses, 
the  idle  throng.  One  need  not  reflect  here:  the  river 
of  life  coursed  swiftly,  merrily. 


CHAPTER   III 

As  the  two  neared  the  opera-house,  Miss  Anthon 
walked  more  leisurely  and  paid  some  attention  to  her 
companion.  The  night  was  soft  for  November;  she  had 
no  wish  to  immure  herself  in  the  close  hotel. 

"Paris  takes  me  out  of  my  skin,"  she  said  half  apolo 
getically.  "The  whole  thing  absorbs  me;  every  one 
seems  to  be  living  so  eagerly.'7 

"  Puttering  about,  I  should  say.  They  are  like  a  lot 
of  children!  "  her  companion" replied  unenthusiastically. 
He  had  been  born  on  a  farm  in  upper  Michigan  —  he 
called  it  Michigaan  —  and  had  ridden  his  pony  to  school 
six  miles  each  day,  after  doing  "father's  chores."  A 
month  of  Paris  had  not  rubbed  off  his  peasant  suspi- 
ciousness.  As  if  in  defence  of  his  truculent  attitude, 
he  added,  "You  hit  me  pretty  hard,  Miss  Anthon,  — 
what  you  said  about  Americans  appreciating  only  the 
success  of  dollars  and  politics." 

"  Why?  "  The  girl  focussed  her  attention  wonderingly 
on  her  companion. 

"That's  what  I  am  after,  always  have  been,  since  I 
began  teaching  elocution  and  literature  up  in  the  old 
Michigan  school.  I  taught  there  two  years,"  he  con 
tinued  simply,  with  the  homely,  unconscious  conceit  of 

22 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  23 

a  man  interested  in  his  own  drama,  yet  who  can  relish 
the  picturesqueness  of  it.  "  Then  I  saw  my  way  to  some 
college  learning,  and  in  one  way  or  another  I  kept  at 
the  state  university  for  four  years.  One  summer  I  ped 
dled  dry  goods  in  lowy  and  Nebrasky.  Another  I  sold 
ploughs  in  Texas." 

His  companion  sauntered  slowly,  keeping  a  sympa 
thetic  silence.  There  was  a  pleasant  kind  of  brag  in  his 
simple  epic. 

"  But  I  got  my  chance  one  red-hot  August  day,  when 
I  met  Joe  Dinsrnore  in  the  smoking-car  of  a  C.  B.  &  Q. 
train,  crossing  a  Kansas  prairie.  Big  Joe  was  on  his 
way  to  look  over  a  piece  of  land  that  had  come  back  on 
a  client  of  his  on  a  mortgage.  He  took  to  me,  and  we 
rode  over  to  see  the  sand-heap  his  man  had  lent  twenty 
thousand  on.  The  mortgage  called  it  'fertile  farming 
land/  Dinsmore  swore  and  then  laughed  when  he'd 
seen  the  miles  of  drouth  and  blasted  grass  and  corn. 
But  I  got  out  of  the  buggy  and  scraped  a  hole  in  the  hot 
ground.  Then  I  took  a  look  at  the  air;  my!  it  just 
waltzed  and  sang  over  our  heads,  fit  to  blister  the  paint 
on  the  team.  Well,  we  drove  on,  Dinsmore  mad,  and 
me  quiet,  until  we  came  to  the  Waralla  Eiver.  Then  I 
smiled." 

His  face  relaxed  at  the  memory,  and  he  pushed  his 
tall  silk  hat  back  to  a  rakish  angle,  unconscious  of  the 
city,  of  the  whirling  carriages,  of  everything  save  that 
vital  moment  of  triumph  out  on  the  arid  prairie. 

"Dinsmore  was  mopping  his  head  and  growling: 
'Rantoul  was  a  blankish  eastern  idiot;  he  might  as  well 


24  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

throw  up  the  sponge.     Two  square  miles  of  this  ash- 
heap  ! ' 

"But,"  in  the  fervour  of  his  tale,  Wilbur  turned 
squarely  to  the  girl,  "I  smiled  at  him.  'Dinsmore,'  I 
said,  'you  know  how  to  draw  a  brief  and  run  a  caucus 
and  bluff  a  jury, —  and  perhaps  a  few  other  things, —  but 
you  don't  understand  this  game.7  '  Well,7  he  growled, 
'what  have  you  got  to  offer?7  'Irrigation,7  I  said;  and 
he  howled.  'Irrigate,  you  damn  fool,  when  the  banks 
of  that  cussed  river  are  twenty-five  feet  high  on  either 
side,  and  no  coal  within  two  hundred  miles ! 7 

"  Then  I  explained  myself.  I  told  him  how  I  and  a 
classmate  at  Michigan  one  spring  invented  just  the 
machine  for  this.  'It's  working  to-day  on  father7s  farm 
up  in  northern  Michigan.7  'How  long  will  it  take  us  to 
git  there?7  he  jerked  out.  *  Three  days.7  Well,  the  old 
wheel  we  had  rigged  up,  Jim  Center  and  me,  was  there 
pumping  away  like  the  day  we  left  it,  when  Dinsmore 
and  I  drove  over  from  the  station.77 

Here  Wilbur,  in  his  excitement,  had  stopped  at  a 
deserted  brasserie,  and  taking  two  chairs  from  the  near 
est  table,  he  described  minutely  the  water-hoister  with 
all  its  superb  points.  Miss  Anthon  sank  into  a  chair. 
They  were  near  the  hotel  now,  and  the  tale  absorbed  her. 

"  Dinsmore  looked  it  over ;  he  said  nothing ;  then  he 
started  it  running;  then  he  looked  it  over  again.  'My 
boy,7  he  said,  as  we  walked  up  to  the  house,  'there  is  a 
desk  for  you  in  my  office  in  Chicago.  You  read  law. 
Some  day  you  will  be  managing  a  "  Water-Hoister  Com 
pany.'7  7  That  was  near  three  years  ago.77 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FKEEDOM  25 

Wilbur  ordered  a  bock.  After  one  sip  he  put  the 
glass  down  and  went  on.  There  were  delightful  appen 
dices  to  this  epic.  Dinsmore  had  tried  to  cheat  him, 
but  — 

"  I  held  him  up  in  his  own  office,  on  the  tenth  floor  of 
the  Sears  building.  'A  square  deal/  I  said,  'or  you 
don't  get  out  of  this  office/  And  Dinsmore  has  done 
the  right  thing  ever  since." 

Miss  Anthon's  blood  ran  in  little  throbs  as  he  described 
this  primitive  arrangement  in  the  tenth  floor  of  an  office- 
building,  where  the  old  eel  of  a  politician  had  been 
foiled  by  his  sharp  clerk. 

"Then  Dinsmore  tried  to  do  Eantoul  on  his  land, 
when  he  saw  what  a  fat  thing  we  had.  But,"  here  the 
young  fellow  smiled  in  appreciation  of  his  astuteness 
rather  than  of  his  honesty,  "  Rantoul  has  his  third  now." 

Later  Wilbur  had  gone  to  Washington  as  secretary 
for  an  Illinois  boss,  and  while  there  had  arranged  the 
patents  and  started  the  Water-Hoister  Improvement 
Company.  Center  was  remembered. 

"I  gave  him  a  quarter  of  my  third.  He  is  teaching 
school  up  Minnesota  way.  Some  day  he  will  be  a  rich 
man  and  won't  know  what  has  struck  him." 

"How  can  you  be  spared?"  Miss  Anthon  asked,  as 
the  story  seemed  to  end  in  the  air.  "  How  did  you  dare 
to  run  over  here  for  three  months  and  be  so  far  away 
from  your  schemes?" 

Wilbur  laughed  and  was  silent  for  a  moment,  with 
that  look  of  seeing  around  a  corner  which  comes  into  the 
faces  of  shrewd,  new  men. 


26  THE   GOSPEL   OP   FREEDOM 

"  Well,  Miss  Anthon, "  he  gazed  at  her  frankly,  as  if 
she  would  compel  his  inmost  secrets,  "  I'm  not  quite  fit 
for  what's  ahead,  not  even  with  what  I  got  over  there  at 
the  old  school.  I  mean  to  get  into  bigger  things  than 
this  water-hoister  affair.  So  it  won't  hurt  me  to  have 
a  look  around;  it's  about  the  last  time  I  shall  have  a 
chance.  And  I  worked  hard  at  the  job,  got  Rantoul's 
affairs  all  cleared  up,  his  creditors  satisfied.  There's 
nothing  to  do  now,  but  wait  for  the  factory  to  turn  out 
the  machines.  I  shall  be  starting  back  soon  when 
the  time  comes  to  boom.  And,"  he  added  jocularly, 
"Paris  is  good  enough  for  me  when  I'm  not  in  shirt 
sleeves." 

Miss  Anthon's  face  glowed  with  her  excitement  over 
the  story.  It  touched  her  imagination:  money-getting, 
it  seemed,  might  be  another  affair  than  taciturn,  re 
served  old  John  Anthon  had  made  it.  Wilbur  brought 
out  the  romance.  And  she  pardoned  the  hero's  genial 
complacency  in  his  own  cleverness,  his  colossal  confi 
dence  that  the  world  and  he  had  been  made  just  so  that 
he  might  bring  about  his  combinations.  His  tolerance 
of  the  old-world,  in  spite  of  his  suspicion,  was  also 
fine.  She  got  up,  regretfully,  aware  for  the  first  time 
that  it  was  not  quite  the  place  for  her,  —  the  Boulevard 
des  Capucines  at  ten  o'clock,  sitting  with  a  young  man 
who  sipped  a  bock. 

A  few  moments  later  she  bade  him  good-night,  and 
shook  hands  heartily,  with  a  kind  of  recognition  for  the 
interest  he  had  given  her.  Life  must  be  made  to  march, 
and  whoever  gratified  this  craving  would  get  his  meed 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  27 

of  generous  acknowledgment.  And  Wilbur  felt  a  little 
of  the  elation  of  the  dominant  male.  He  was  not  mak 
ing  love;  he  had  too  little  submissiveness  to  be  a  lover. 
Kather,  he  had  impressed  himself,  and  that  was  a  neces 
sity  of  his  nature. 


CHAPTER    IV 

MR.  WALTER  ANTHON  had  cultivated  his  little  garden 
of  aspirations  industriously  and  with  nattering  results. 
He  had  lately  been  taken  on  as  an  occasional  writer 
for  the  Standard  and  was  intimate  with  the  younger 
gods  who  supported  the  New  National  review.  To  his 
surprise  his  American  birth  had  facilitated  his  course: 
it  was  easier  to  be  nice  to  an  American  (as  Lady  Dorant 
had  frankly  told  him)  than  to  one  of  your  own  people, 
for  you  weren't  responsible  for  the  stranger  if  you  took 
him  up.  Again  to  his  surprise  he  had  found  that  the 
London  world  took  seriously  his  newspaper  articles  on 
European  traits.  These  outpourings  of  his  first  two 
years  in  London  had  just  appeared  in  book  form.  And 
he  had  come  to  his  family  straight  from  Norwood,  the 
home  of  the  great  novelist  Maxwell. 

Neither  his  family,  nor  Yvette  Guilbert,  —  nor  yet  the 
custom  of  showing  himself  in  Paris  once  in  so  often, — 
had  brought  him  across  the  channel.  He  was  eager  to 
see  Miss  Molly  Parker,  who  had  occupied  his  heart 
intermittently  during  his  calf  years  in  America.  One 
visit,  he  reflected  as  he  waited  in  the  chill  salon  of  the 
Passy  villa,  would  probably  satisfy  whatever  sentiment 
had  survived. 

"Well,  well,  it  is  so  nice  to  see  you,  and  here  in 
28 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FJREEDOM  29 

Europe,"  Miss  Parker  emitted  her  welcome  as  she  half 
ran  down  the  long  room.  The  clear,  soft  tones  that 
seemed  always  to  carry  a  caress,  or  rather  a  pervading 
sensation  of  warmth,  invigorated  the  most  commonplace 
words.  Walter  Anthon  had  always  felt  the  immediate 
charm,  but  when  once  away  he  recalled  the  words,  it  was 
impossible  to  find  anything  not  merely  ordinary.  The 
woman  created  something  original  out  of  the  simple 
events  and  words  of  dull  life.  When  she  had  disap 
peared  the  creation  fell  into  emptiness. 

The  creating  power  lay  in  the  slight,  well-defined 
form,  in  the  fine  hair  —  that  just  missed  being  red 
gold  —  which  waved  over  the  high  brows  and  played 
with  the  ears  and  neck,  and  in  the  little  curves  of  ful 
ness  of  the  cheeks  and  neck,  above  all  in  the  full  grey- 
blue  eyes  which  took  such  an  absorbing  interest  in  all 
things.  She  was  a  woman,  now  and  always,  —  that  fact 
so  dominant  in  her  presence  eliminated  any  discussion 
of  beauty.  Some  people,  unimaginative  and  literal, 
called  her  plain,  and  talked  about  hands  and  feet  and 
a  waist  much  too  ample,  and  features  too  heavy,  and 
many  other  details,  but  those  who  had  suffered  her 
charm  and  remembered  it,  smiled  —  she  would  inspire 
a  scarecrow. 

"  And  how  do  you  do,  after  all  these  months  ?  "  In 
the  warmth  of  her  special  welcome  Anthon  forgot  the 
little  arrangement  about  his  attitude  to  Miss  Parker 
which  he  had  made  with  himself.  "  I  came  from  Lon 
don  to  see  you." 

"No,   not   really."      Miss    Parker    laughed   as   if    it 


30  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

were  a  delicious  fib,  but  one  she  would  like  to  believe. 
"That  was  very  good  of  you!'7 

"  You  were  going  out  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  we  will  go  together.  To  the  Louvre. 
Just  think,  I  have  been  here  six  weeks,  and  I  have 
peeped  into  the  Louvre  but  once.  Mrs.  Ormiston  Dex 
ter —  she's  my  aunt  whom  I  am  travelling  with  —  has 
been  so  miserable,  and  the  children  all  had  to  go  to 
the  dentist's.  But  we  shall  have  such  a  beautiful 
time  —  you  will  take  me  to  see  just  what  is  best.  I 
like  to  be  shown  things  so ! "  Her  eager  eyes  looked 
out  like  a  child's  over  the  prospect  of  a  new  toy. 
"Tell  me  about  your  year  in  London.  What  have  you 
been  doing?  You  never  sent  me  any  of  your  articles." 

Anthon  twisted  his  moustache  and  evaded  the  last 
reproach. 

"  I've  met  a  lot  of  people,  the  right  kind,  who  are  in 
things,"  and  he  detailed  a  list  of  names  naively.  "  They 
have  been  awfully  kind  and  nice  to  me." 

"  Of  course,"  Miss  Parker  responded  slyly.  She  was 
so  sympathetic,  Mrs.  Ormiston  Dexter  declared,  that  she 
would  hobnob  with  the  devil  and  take  his  views  of  the 
universe  —  for  the  time. 

"So  you  will  be  a  big  literary  man,  and  write  books  or 
become  an  editor  and  live  in  London." 

"  Not  so  fast,"  the  young  man  protested.  "  You  will 
make  me  poet  laureate  before  you  are  done.  I'm  on  the 
road,  that  is  all.  Now  I  must  do  something  good,  really 
good,  you  know,  to  justify  all  the  belief  those  fellows 
have  in  me.  But  I  knew  enough  not  to  stay  in  America. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  31 

It's  the  only  way,  to  come  over  here  and  get  in,  get  to  be 
known  and  have  your  work  talked  about  by  the  world, 
not  write  for  the  provinces." 

"  That's  us  ?  "  Miss  Parker  inquired. 

"  Not  you,"  Anthon  smiled ;  "  you  belong  to  the  woods." 

"  Thank  you !     You  mean  the  backwoods." 

"  And  you  ?  "  Anthon  asked. 

"We've  done  Germany  and  northern  Italy.  So  many 
hotels  and  people  and  pictures  and  towns  and  cities.  It 
has  been  great!"  Anthon  could  see  her  at  the  Grand 
Hotel  this  or  that,  calling  all  the  lap-dogs  by  their  pet 
names,  and  on  good  terms  with  nearly  every  comer, 
from  the  fat  Polish  countess  to  the  gentlemanly  English 
loafer.  "  But  Italy  was  best,"  her  eyes  softened  dreamily. 
"The  dear  people,  with  their  fat  little  babies,  and  those 
stagey  mountains.  It  was  like  going  to  the  opera  all 
day  long.  Shall  we  start?" 

Miss  Parker  chatted  briskly  at  him,  unawed  by  his 
importance,  while  they  crawled  down  the  Champs  Ely  sees 
on  the  imperials  of  an  omnibus.  She  had  scoffed  at  the 
idea  of  taking  a  cab,  and  forced  Anthon  to  run  the  risk 
of  being  observed  by  his  acquaintances  as  he  swayed  to 
and  fro  and  clutched  at  his  tall  hat.  It  took  them  a  good 
while  to  escape  the  importunate  guides,  the  venders  of 
photographs,  and  the  other  obstructions  that  beset  the 
great  palace. 

"It's  like  a  dance-hall  outside  and  a  tomb  in,"  Miss 
Parker  reflected.  "All  these  bronzes  in  this  heavy- 
arched  room  are  such  a  cold  welcome.  They  seem  like 
a  procession  of  the  dead  drawn  up  to  receive  you." 


32  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

When  they  came  to  the  grand  staircase,  with  its 
glorious  crown  of  the  Nike,  Anthon  brought  out  some 
classical  learning  to  amuse  his  companion  with. 

"  What  a  lovely  body,  and  what  splendid  wings,  real 
angels'  wings,"  she  exclaimed  unheedingly. 

They  paused  before  the  mutilated  Botticelli  frescos, 
and  spent  some  minutes  tracing  out  the  dim  outlines 
of  figures,  until  he  persisted  in  comparing  her  with 
the  virgin  being  led  to  the  altar.  Then  they  idly 
sauntered  into  the  neighbouring  French  rooms,  those 
succeeding  caverns  of  past  epochs,  each  one  with  its 
special  manner,  its  own  atmosphere,  its  individual  way 
of  putting  together  the  minute  details  of  life.  Here  and 
there  were  copyists,  lazily  working,  chiefly  old  women 
and  men,  —  antiquated  professors  who  had  returned  to 
the  idols  of  their  youth.  The  Madame  Le  Bruns,  the 
Watteaus,  and  Chardonels  came  out  on  the  new  can 
vases  with  a  metallic  lustre,  an  indecency  of  corporeal 
resurrection. 

Anthon  made  no  pretence  of  looking  at  pictures.  A 
few  schools  only  appealed  to  him,  and  he  liked  the 
National  Gallery  on  pay-days  when  you  were  likely  to 
meet  people  you  knew  and  had  plenty  of  elbow-room. 
This  nursery-maid  expedition  was  purely  for  the  girl's 
sake ;  he  watched  her  as  she  peered  here  and  there  and 
made  audacious  remarks.  As  they  came  out  into  the 
square  hall  beyond  the  Watteaus  and  Chardonels,  Anthon 
caught  sight  of  his  uncle  leaning  over  to  examine  a 
portrait.  His  manner  was  absorbed,  as  if  the  place  had 
put  a  spell  upon  him  and  he  was  dreaming. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  33 

"  Let's  go  in  here,"  Walter  Anthon  said  hurriedly. 
"The  old  man  there  is  my  uncle,  and  he  is  a  dreadful 
bore." 

They  found  themselves  in  the  bustle  of  the  modern 
French  room.  Here  were  younger  copyists,  ragged 
boys  and  girls,  dowdy  women,  who  idled  about  from 
easel  to  easel  gossiping  in  loud  tones. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  was  a  bore,"  Miss  Parker  remarked 
thoughtfully,  "  he  looked  like  such  a  nice  old  gentleman, 
and  rather  tired." 

"All  my  family  are  bores,"  Anthon  replied  depre- 
catingly.  Miss  Parker  opened  her  eyes  in  surprise. 
"Except  possibly  my  sister — I  don't  know  what  she 
will  do  with  herself.  She  will  probably  do  something 
idiotic,  though.  You  ought  to  know  her :  you  might  do 
her  some  good,  teach  her  to  take  herself  more  simply." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  "  Miss  Parker  asked  timidly. 

They  were  standing  in  a  corner  near  a  small  Corot 
that  was  being  painfully  copied  by  an  anaemic-looking 
young  fellow. 

"  I  never  come  here,"  her  companion  continued  irrele 
vantly,  "  without  wondering  what  all  these  poor  devils 
think  they  are  doing  " ;  he  glanced  about  at  the  copyists. 

"  Perhaps  they  love  it."  Then  she  changed  the  topic 
as  if  aware  that  Anthon  did  not  show  himself  at  his  best 
in  his  criticism  of  life.  "  Do  you  know  a  Mr.  Erard  ?  " 

"  My  uncle  knows  enough  about  him !  Devilish  clever, 
they  say.  He  never  got  on  well  in  London,  though. 
Something  of  a  cad,  I  fancy;  but  I  am  told  he  knows 
pictures.  What  do  you  know  of  him  ?  " 


34  THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM 

"I  met  a  younger  brother  once.  He  was  in  a  mill 
and  got  sick.  I  visited  the  family  and  grew  to  know 
them.  Peter  Erard  was  such  a  nice  fellow;  too  good 
for  his  place.  He  was  twenty-two  and  had  ten  dollars  a 
week.  That  was  what  the  family  lived  on.  They 
talked  about  this  older  brother  in  Paris,  who  seemed 
such  a  great  man  in  their  eyes." 

"  My  uncle  helped  him  on,  I  believe.  My  mother  is 
down  on  the  old  man  for  spending  his  money  on  the  fel 
low.  He  doesn't  paint  so  much  as  he  writes  about  art." 

The  two  passed  across  the  great  square  room  with  its 
fervour  of  national  art,  its  striking  high-pitched  tone,  and 
nervous  crowd. 

"There's  Adela  now,"  Anthon  exclaimed  when  they 
had  entered  the  Long  Gallery.  Miss  Parker  looked 
quickly  over  to  the  tall  young  woman  who  was  gazing 
perplexedly  at  a  Titian.  A  meagre-looking  man  in  eye 
glasses  was  evidently  discussing  the  picture,  his  fingers 
running  up  and  down  before  the  frame  as  if  he  were 
feeling  the  thing  in  its  joints.  Every  now  and  then  he 
applied  a  pair  of  small  opera-glasses  to  some  detail  and 
then  stepped  back  to  his  companion. 

Walter  Anthon  walked  over  and  spoke  to  his  sister. 
She  glanced  up  as  if  annoyed  at  any  break  in  the  mental 
condition,  looked  over  to  Miss  Parker,  measuring  her 
swiftly,  then  nodded  to  her  brother.  A  moment  more 
they  had  crossed  the  room,  and  Anthon  presented  his 
sister. 

"  You  were  very  good  to  come."  Miss  Parker  looked 
up  at  the  other  woman  trustingly,  as  if  to  say,  "  Of  course 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  35 

you  are  bored  to  be  disturbed,  but  I  want  you  to  like  me, 
and  I  guess  we  shall  make  it  all  right." 

"You  seem  so  interested  over  there,"  she  continued, 
as  Miss  Anthon  stood  examining  her  without  protesting 
or  indulging  in  polite  phrases.  "Don't  let  me  break  it 
up." 

"  Mr.  Erard  was  explaining  to  me  why  the  picture  is 
not  a  Titian.  It  is  very  complex,  and  I  was  absorbed. 
But  I  am  glad  to  meet  you."  She  smiled  back  at  the 
smaller  woman.  "  Won't  you  come  over  too,  if  you  are 
interested  in  pictures.  He  took  me  first  to  a  real  Titian, 
and  we  spent  nearly  an  hour  over  it  until  I  got  hold  of 
some  of  Titian's  characteristics.  Now  we  are  examining 
this  fellow." 

Erard  merely  nodded  to  the  newcomers,  and  continued 
his  broken  monologue,  largely  to  himself,  partly  to  Miss 
Anthon. 

"  You  see  how  stiffly  this  arm  is  drawn.  You  couldn't 
move  that  arm:  it  doesn't  exist.  Now  in  the  real 
Titian  I  had  a  feeling  in  my  right  arm,  a  tightening 
up  of  the  muscles  as  if  they  wanted  to  grasp  the  sword. 
This  is  wooden,  like  a  piece  of  lath.  I  pass  over  the 
dead  black :  that  may  be  due  to  the  restorer.  But  in 
the  application  of  light,  Miss  Anthon,  you  must  feel 
how  much  inferior  this  is  to  the  Titian.  There  the 
light  was  flecked  on,  boldly,  in  points.  Here  there  is 
a  hard,  white  line,  mechanically  traced  over  the  corslet. 
The  effect  of  the  Titian  is  dazzling;  this  is  metallic. 
And  the  head,  Miss  Anthon,  —  this  is  half  a  head.  Just 
as  if  you  should  split  a  skull  and  veneer  the  features  to 


36  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

the  canvas.  There  is  no  back  part.  Now  in  the  Titian 
you  could  feel  the  rounded  head ;  you  could  pat  it,  and 
fill  it  in  for  yourself.  There  is  air  all  about  it." 

Miss  Anthon  followed  his  least  motion,  absorbed  as 
over  a  mathematical  problem  in  tracing  his  induction. 
"  Yes,  I  see,"  she  murmured. 

"Let's  have  another  look  at  the  real  Titian."  Erard 
moved  off. 

"  Why !  they  still  call  this  a  Titian,  too,"  Miss  Parker 
exclaimed  incredulously.  Erard  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"  It  will  take  them  five  years  to  get  the  label  off. 
When  I  first  came  to  Paris,  they  used  to  call  this 
thing  a  Giorgione.  Only  last  year  they  labelled  it 
Bonifazio." 

"  Then  the  labels  aren't  right,"  Miss  Parker  remarked 
naively. 

"  Sometimes,"  Erard  replied  with  a  smile.  Miss 
Parker  remained  absorbed  in  this  new  aspect  of  the 
world,  —  that  it  wasn't  always  what  it  pretended  to 
be.  If  a  thing  was  said,  printed;  if  it  could  be  seen 
in  a  book,  —  why  it  must  be  so.  If  you  were  to  sus 
pect  the  evidence  of  your  simple  senses,  what  a  be 
wildering  world  this  would  be ! 

Erard  said  little  more  when  they  came  to  the  Titian. 
He  studied  it  thoughtfully  with  his  glasses,  remarking 
at  last.  "  The  forefinger  isn't  his,  nor  the  thumb.  Some 
bungler  put  that  on.  Well,  you  have  seen  enough  for 
one  day,  Miss  Anthon.  Don't  look  at  any  more  pictures." 

Miss  Parker  made  a  little  face  of  disappointed  sur 
prise  :  she  was  greatly  interested  in  this  new  oracle. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  37 

But  Miss  Anthon  accepted  his  decision  as  final,  though 
her  robust  zest  had  not  been  appeased.  She  turned  to 
reexamine  Miss  Parker ;  the  two  women  chatted,  as  they 
passed  down  the  crowded  gallery  instinctively  testing 
each  other,  much  as  Erard  had  tested  the  pictures. 
When  they  reached  the  Salon  Carre,  they  paused  as  if 
satisfied  with  their  preliminary  trial.  Miss  Anthon  dis 
missed  her  companion  with  unceremonious  directness. 
"  I  want  to  see  you  again,  and  I  shall  try  to  find  you  at 
Passy.  Good-by." 

"She's  got  pretty  thick  with  him  already,"  Anthon 
remarked,  as  Erard  disappeared  with  his  sister.  Miss 
Anthon  was  saying  to  her  companion :  "  You  have 
made  me  see  so  much ! " 

"  Yes,  you  can  see,  when  you  are  told  to  look,"  Erard 
assented  quizzically.  "If  you  can  keep  on  using  your 
eyes  and  not  your  i  intuitions,'  you  may  know  something 
about  pictures  some  day." 

"  If  you  would  —  "  she  began  humbly. 

"  Stuff !  "  Erard  cut  her  short  irritably.  "  I  might  teach 
to-day  what  I  should  deny  to-morrow.  Use  your  own 
wits,  and  hold  your  tongue.  There  is  nothing  so  won 
derful  about  art  —  in  certain  aspects,  no  Eleusinian 
mystery." 

She  was  afraid  to  make  another  remark  lest  she  might 
blunder.  What  Mr.  Simeon  Erard  judged  to  be  stupid 
was  coming  to  have  an  immense  weight  with  her.  She 
felt  grateful  to  him  for  not  snubbing  her  badly. 


CHAPTER  V 

Miss  ANTHOX  continued  to  spend  a  few  desultory  hours 
in  the  fashionable  studio  behind  the  Madeleine.  Erard's 
raillery  made  the  work  appear  more  futile  than  ever,  yet 
the  engagement  was  a  convenient  excuse.  At  least  once 
a  day  she  could  escape  from  Mrs.  Anthon's  rasping  com 
panionship,  and  the  dressmakers  and  milliners  and  aim 
less  scurryings  to  and  fro.  Her  uncle  Sebastian  had 
hinted,  also,  that  the  first  sign  of  restlessness  on  her 
part  would  precipitate  a  move  to  Nice,  or  some  other 
watering-place.  And,  so  long  as  Erard  condescended  to 
take  an  interest  in  her  case,  she  was  loth  to  leave  Paris. 

On  brisk  days,  when  the  pervasive  fog  was  lifted  up 
and  shoved  behind  the  surrounding  hills,  Miss  Anthon 
gave  Jerome's  the  slip  and  snatched  a  few  hours  for  long 
walks.  In  this  way  she  had  taken  Wilbur  out  to  the 
little  house  in  Passy  where  Miss  Molly  Parker  spent  the 
burden  of  the  day  over  Mrs.  Ormiston  Dexter's  children. 
Wilbur  and  Miss  Parker  had  dashed  into  a  surprising 
intimacy  from  the  first.  Miss  Anthon  watched  enviously 
the  skilful  American  girl  lead  Wilbur  through  his  most 
stalwart  paces. 

One  could  not  help  being  intimate  with  this  young 
woman.  She  was  like  a  green  field  in  June;  when  she 
smiled  one  felt  at  home,  as  one  did  in  nature. 

38 


THE  GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  39 

"You  are  so  immensely  human,7'  Miss  Anthon  had 
been  moved  to  say,  as  they  left,  taking  Miss  Parker's 
hands  and  looking  into  her  startled  eyes. 

"  Why  ?  I'm  just  like  the  others,"  Miss  Parker  replied, 
troubled. 

"With  a  difference,"  Miss  Anthon  sighed.  "It's  all 
straight  to  you;  there  is  no  doubt,  no  hesitation." 

"  Oh,  lots !  I  am  awfully  poor,  and  if  it  weren't  for 
Aunt  Nan,  I'd  have  to  teach  school  or  keep  books  or  — 
get  married." 

"Money  is  so  unimportant!  "  the  other  girl  announced 
disdainfully. 

"Oh,  my  lady,  nothing,  a  mere  trifle.  Comprenez, 
Monsieur  Fiji,"  Miss  Parker  mimicked  the  air  of  dis 
dain,  taking  the  little  black  spaniel  into  her  lap.  "  C'est 
rien  du  tout,  du  tout,  this  matter  of  money.  C'est  une 
bagatelle,  milady  a  dite.  Que  pensez-vous  ?  " 

"  Au  revoir,  you  child."     Miss  Anthon  kissed  her. 

"  Bon  jour,  milady. " 

Once  out  on  the  grey  street,  Miss  Anthon  turned  to 
Wilbur  for  appreciation.  "  Well  ?  " 

"She's  a  good  girl,"  Wilbur  remarked  abstractedly. 

"That's  all!" 

"  That's  enough,  isn't  it  ?  She's  the  sort  to  go  through 
fire  for  one,  and  cook  and  sew  and  play  with  one,  too. 
She's  about  right." 

This  explanation  mollified  Miss  Anthon  a  little.  "  You 
make  her  out  a  companionable  animal !  Isn't  there  any 
thing  more  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so,"  Wilbur  replied,  swinging  his  cane.     Evi- 


40  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

dently  neither  Miss  Parker  nor  women  in  general  ap 
pealed  to  him  just  then.  Miss  Anthon  watched  his 
moody  manner  sympathetically.  He  touched  her  on 
sides  little  known  to  herself,  awakening  vague  instincts, 
appealing  to  a  primitive  nature  that  did  not  lie  far  below 
the  surface  of  her  character.  His  practical  sense,  his 
imagination  in  material  issues,  his  enjoyment  of  the 
hearty  meal  in  daily  life,  pleased  her.  She  liked  the 
heavy  frame,  the  square  face  with  its  ordinary  plainness 
and  healthy  tints.  His  tolerance  of  fine  art  tickled  her 
humour.  To  him  Erard's  profound  seriousness  over 
these  matters  of  adornment  was  ridiculous;  he  never 
allowed  any  conventional  appreciation  to  disturb  him. 
The  face  value  of  the  world,  as  he  looked  at  it,  was  quite 
satisfactory. 

The  day  was  soft  for  December.  Mount  Julien 
towered  up  beyond  the  river,  close  at  hand,  its  fortifica 
tions  lightly  covered  by  a  mantle  of  snow.  As  they 
came  out  on  the  Place  de  1'Etoile  the  broad  avenues 
seemed  alive  with  cabs.  The  vivacity  of  the  scene  in 
which  she  had  no  real  share  rendered  her  sombre. 

"You  had  a  great  chance,"  she  said  at  last,  sighing 
unconsciously. 

Wilbur  smiled.     "There  are  always  plenty  more." 

"  For  a  man,  for  men  such  as  you  !  " 

"I  guess  for  women,  too." 

"Nonsense,"  she  took  him  up  sharply.  "A  husband, 
or  a  vocation  badly  filled.  What  chance  is  there  for 
me  ?  "  She  gave  her  egotism  rein  recklessly. 

"  You  are  pretty  well  off. "  Wilbur  never  wasted  emo 
tion  over  cultivated  evils. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM  41 

"Yes,  too  well  !  My  brick-stock  will  always  make 
me  incapable  of  doing  anything  rash." 

"  Oh  !  "  Wilbur  turned  a  more  curious  eye  on  his 
companion.  "That's  the  rub.  You  want  more  ?" 

"Or  less." 

"Why  don't  you  try  our  new  company?  Dinsmore 
writes  that  the  stock  was  issued  last  week.  We  have 
put  only  a  little  on  the  market." 

"Perhaps  I  shall  want  to  take  a  hand.  Could  you 
get  me  some  ?  " 

"Earnest?" 

She  looked  at  him  defiantly. 

"You'll  have  to  ask  your  uncle.  I  know  where  you 
could  get  some  —  old  B-antoul.  But  you  had  better  stay 
in  bricks.  They're  safer." 

The  two  laughed  and  changed  the  subject.  She  had 
no  very  definite  idea  why  she  desired  to  take  risks,  to 
be  richer  than  she  was  at  present.  It  was  a  longing  for 
the  risk  itself,  as  much  as  anything,  for  having  a  share 
in  the  palpitations  of  the  world. 

After  dejeuner,  when  she  broached  the  subject  to  her 
uncle,  Sebastian  Anthon  pooh-poohed;  his  brother  had 
trained  him  well.  Brick-stock  was  a  family  god.  To 
sell  it,  to  dabble  in  other  enterprises,  was  like  trading 
in  the  family  reputation.  Opposition,  however,  made 
the  girl  truculent. 

"  Uncle  Seb,  did  you  never  want  to  do  anything  but 
the  safe  thing  ?  " 

The  old  man  smiled  at  her.  "I  always  want  the 
others  to  do  the  safe  thing." 


42  THE  GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"  Do  you  think  it  would  make  a  nice  world  if  every 
one  did  the  safe  thing  and  rested  there  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  he  mused,  "there  are  always  plenty 
to  do  the  unsafe  thing,  to  make  the  ventures  —  and  the 
world  is  not  an  over-nice  place." 

She  looked  at  him  without  replying. 

"  Adela,  I  am  afraid  you  will  explode  some  day.  Put 
the  explosion  off,  lessen  it,  deaden  it.  Some  one  is  gen 
erally  hurt  when  there  is  an  explosion." 

She  laughed  at  his  figure.  A  few  days  later,  how 
ever,  the  matter  came  up  again  unexpectedly.  It  was 
between  the  acts  at  the  opera.  Miss  Anthon  and  Wilbur 
were  walking  up  and  down  the  foyer,  having  left  Mrs. 
Anthon  over  a  cooling  drink. 

"  Do  you  want  that  stock  ?  "  Wilbur  remarked  abruptly. 
"  When  you  first  spoke  of  it  the  other  day,  it  meant  noth 
ing  to  me,"  he  explained.  "But  Dinsmore  has  been 
acting  queerly,  booming  things  before  they  are  ripe. 
Perhaps  he  thinks  he  can  get  out  and  take  his  profits 
before  we  have  had  a  real  trial  and  are  on  a  safe  foot 
ing.  I  must  cut  home  at  once,  and  try  to  keep  my  end 
up.  Now  Center  and  I  control  a  third  j  Rantoul  has 
another  third.  Dinsmore  runs  Eantoul.  I  must  run 
Rantoul  —  you  see  ?  " 

The  girl  nodded. 

"This  is  only  a  side-show  for  Dinsmore,"  Wilbur  con 
tinued  moodily,  "but  it's  my  chance.  I  must  have  a 
hand  on  Rantoul;  if  I  can't  bully  him,  buy  him  out." 

Miss  Anthon  understood  swiftly  the  implications. 
She  might  become  Wilbur's  partner.  Boldly  stated, 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  43 

such  a  proposition  sounded  indelicate,  but  this  imputa 
tion  amused  her. 

"  How  much  would  that  take  ?  " 

"About  fifty  thousand." 

That  was  a  sobering  answer.  One-third  of  her  brick- 
stock,  and  bricks  paid  their  assured  twelve  per  cent.  For 
a  moment  she  trembled  and  was  inclined  to  take  refuge 
in  Uncle  Sebastian's  advice.  Then  her  blood  leapt  again 
to  her  pulses.  Some  bars  of  Tristan  surged  through 
her,  inciting  her  to  venture,  to  play  with  the  world 
somehow. 

"Once  in  the  saddle,"  continued  Wilbur,  speciously, 
"and  given  a  proper  time  for  development,  your  fifty 
thousand  ought  to  more  than  double." 

"And  if  I  don't  do  it,"  her  eyes  questioned  him. 

"Why!  I  take  my  chances  of  finding  somebody  else 
who  will,"  he  retaliated.  His  assurance  in  his  own 
control  of  this  world's  affairs  made  it  impossible  for  him 
to  realize  the  risk  he  was  urging  her  to  take. 

"  I'll  do  it."  Miss  Anthon  caught  her  breath.  "  I  will 
put  fifty  thousand  in  the  company.  I  am  of  age,  twenty- 
two.  All  my  family  are  independent.  I  shall  have 
enough  left,  in  —  in  case  —  " 

Wilbur  looked  puzzled  at  all  this  confession. 

"  And  I  do  it  because  I  believe  in  you.  I  want  to 
share  with  you  in  your  fight  and  feel  that  I  count  for 
something  in  this  world." 

This  was  also  a  little  vague  and  childish.  Wilbur  on 
his  part  showed  no  signs  of  obligation.  He  had  treated 
her  as  openly  as  he  would  the  best  of  his  friends,  and 


44  THE    GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

all  at  once  they  seemed  to  grow  intimate.  He  unfolded 
swiftly  his  course  of  action,  the  reasons  for  his  belief 
in  the  future.  When  the  bell  sounded,  and  they  were 
back  once  more  in  the  cramped  loge,  Miss  Anthon  felt 
indebted  to  him  already  for  this  chance  of  equality. 

The  next  morning  she  announced  her  decision  to  her 
mother  and  uncle,  almost  indifferently,  as  they  were 
eating  breakfast  in  their  private  salon.  Mrs.  Anthon 
screamed.  "  Ada,  you  are  crazed !  Sebastian,  she  shan't 
do  it.  There  was  my  aunt's  husband  —  he  sold  his  stock 
at  75  in  the  panic  of  eighty-three,  against  poor  John's 
advice  —  "  It  was  a  long  story,  this  tale  of  the  aunt's 
husband  —  and  well  known  in  the  family.  Adela  Anthon 
listened  dreamily.  She  had  always  rather  sympathized 
with  Isaac  Nash  for  daring  to  rebel  against  the  autocrat. 

Sebastian  Anthon's  protest,  backed  up  by  business 
details,  by  unfavourable  remarks  on  skyrocket  compa 
nies,  was  more  weighty.  At  last  he  said  wearily :  "  Why 
do  you  want  to  bother  with  money  matters?  It's  a  tire 
some  business  at  best,  and  when  you  are  pleasantly  out 
of  it,  all  safe,  why  can't  you  use  your  energies  in  some 
other  way  ?  " 

"  How  ?  "  the  young  woman  gazed  at  him  searchingly. 
He  shifted  uneasily  and  glanced  at  his  sister-in-law. 
"  In  art  ?  "  Miss  Anthon  pursued,  "  in  encouraging  young 
artists  instead  of  young  financiers  ?  " 

"You  have  begun  to  explode,  Adela,"  the  old  man 
replied  with  gentle  humour.  "Be  careful  about  it,  and 
remember,  it  doesn't  pay,  it  doesn't  pay." 

"  Does  the  other  thing  pay  ?  " 


THE  GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  45 

He  was  silent. 

When  Wilbur  came  by  appointment  an  hour  later, 
Mrs.  Anthon  restrained  herself  with  difficulty  from 
breaking  out  in  reproaches.  Her  daughter  watched  her 
closely,  with  a  determined  face.  She  had  to  content 
herself  by  rushing  past  Wilbur  brusquely  without  a 
word  of  greeting  or  good-by. 

Wilbur  was  not  too  blind  to  see  that  he  was  persona 
non  grata;  Sebastian  Anthon's  chill  politeness  was 
enough  to  indicate  the  family  attitude.  But  his.,  absorp 
tion  in  the  plans  for  the  coming  campaign  made  it  easy 
to  take  Mrs.  Anthon's  snub  and  the  old  man's  suspicious 
airs.  When  the  two  young  people  were  left  alone, 
Wilbur  remarked  apologetically,  — 

"You  have  been  awfully  plucky." 

"  What  about  ?  "  Miss  Anthon  replied  shortly. 

"  The  row  your  new  investment  has  made.  I  am  sorry 
your  mother  and  uncle  don't  see  it  the  way  we  do ;  but, 
then,  they  couldn't  be  expected  to." 

"No,  they  couldn't." 

"Well,  let  'em  wait  a  year, — wait  six  months, — 
and  they'll  whistle  a  different  tune.  But  you,"  Wilbur 
looked  at  her  with  frank  admiration,  the  first  time  he 
had  done  so  without  other  preoccupation.  He  had  all 
along  taken  it  for  granted  that  she  was  "a  live  girl,"  as 
he  would  have  called  her  in  Michigan.  ISTow  she  ap 
peared  to  him  as  more  than  that ;  she  was  as  full  of  vent 
ure,  as  keenly  alive,  as  he,  besides  being  competent  in 
the  woman's  part  of  knowing  how  to  dress  and  to  talk 
entertainingly  on  many  topics.  He  appreciated  the  fact 


46  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

that  she  had  been  able  to  handle  both  him  and  Erard 
impartially.  As  they  talked  over  the  last  details,  —  he 
was  to  leave  that  night  for  Southampton,  —  the  idea  of 
her  courage  and  her  cleverness  brought  out  his  admira 
tion  increasingly.  She  seemed  to  have  mastered  the 
fine  details  of  the  irrigation  problem.  She  knew  as 
well  as  he  the  ins  and  outs  of  Dinsmore's  character,  and 
she  gave  him  shrewd  advice  how  to  play  his  cards. 

When  all  was  talked  out,  Wilbur  found  it  difficult  to 
make  the  good-by.  He  was  anxious  to  express  many 
shades  of  feeling  at  once,  and  he  felt  incapable  of  the 
necessary  delicacy. 

"You  have  been  a  sandy  friend,"  he  began. 

"Stop,"  she  laughed.  "Kemember  I  am  a  partner, 
and  we  mustn't  have  any  sentiment." 

"That's  all  right,"  he  rose  to  her  point,  "but  if  I  need 
another  spur  in  my  side  I've  got  it;  and  when  we've 
made  the  game,  I  shall  know  who  gave  me  the  boost  at 
the  right  moment." 

"  And  I  —  who  made  life  interesting  when  it  began  to 
hang  heavy ;  and  to  whom  I  owe  my  princely  fortune  !  " 

A  woman  could  be  very  chummy  with  Wilbur  without 
opening  the  way  to  emotional  complexities.  His  educa 
tion  in  a  part  of  the  world  where  women  are  accepted  as 
comrades  (with  certain  advantages  of  sex)  made  him 
companionable.  He  had  always  acted  with  young  women 
on  a  frankly  human  basis  at  home,  or  in  his  university ; 
he  had  seen  so  little  of  them  in  the  conventional  attitude 
that  lie  was  never  the  lover.  Nevertheless,  this  good-by 
included  long  pauses.  At  last  he  said,  — 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  47 

"When  the  stock  is  selling  at  one  twenty-five  you 
will  see  me  again.  Not  before.  And,"  he  proceeded 
slowly,  "then  I  shall  have  another  scheme  to  propose." 

Miss  Anthon  was  vexed  with  herself  at  her  sudden 
blush. 

"I  haven't  any  business  to  be  talking  now  about  — 
well —  I  can't  help,  though,  letting  you  know  how  it 
stands." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  best  not  to  complicate  affairs," 
Miss  Anthon  responded  coldly,  having  gained  control  of 
the  situation  once  more. 

"No,  no,  but,"  he  added  irrelevantly,  "you  are  a  great 
woman.  You  can  get  what  you  have  a  mind  to.  Good- 

by." 

He  held  out  his  hand.  She  shook  it  cordially,  exhila 
rated  by  his  frank  appreciation.  "And  a  quick  return, 
shall  I  say  ?  " 

His  face  beamed;  in  a  moment  she  was  angry  with 
herself  for  her  unconsidered  remark.  "  Why,  of  course 
I  am  anxious  to  hear  that  my  stock  is  selling  at  one 
twenty-five.  But  perhaps  a  letter  would  do  as  well." 

Yet  when  he  had  gone,  his  solid  presence  and  dominat 
ing  assurance  once  out  of  the  stuffy  little  room  of  rasping 
red  velours,  she  had  a  strange  sensation  of  emptiness. 
Wilbur's  connection  with  the  ordinary  facts  of  existence 
seemed  so  immediate  and  normal.  She  was  more  con 
vinced  than  ever  that  she  had  done  shrewdly  in  linking 
her  fortunes  with  his.  Whatever  came  of  the  dollars, 
she  would  be  a  larger  woman  from  having  grasped  hands 
intimately  with  this  plain  person. 


CHAPTER  VI 

AFTER  Wilbur's  departure  for  Chicago  on  his  quest  for 
two  fortunes,  Miss  Anthon  came  to  see  much  of  Simeon 
Erard;  she  accepted  him  more  easily,  now  that  the  young 
business  man's  normal  humour  was  not  present  to  supply 
a  good-natured  criticism.  Erard  was  training  her,  she 
told  Mrs.  Anthon  when  she  was  in  a  provoking  mood. 
He  was  teaching  her  what  to  see  and  how  to  see  it. 
More  subtly,  he  was  training  her  in  values. 

Erard  had  shown  her  the  famous  new  picture  by 
Degas;  what  was  more  exciting,  had  presented  the 
painter  himself.  One  clear  day  he  had  taken  her  out 
to  a  quiet  studio  at  Passy,  where  she  had  seen  a  great 
master  at  work  on  a  fresco  for  an  American  building. 
Again,  they  had  visited  old  Sader  at  work  on  his  mar 
vellous  gates,  which  had  been  on  the  way  for  a  dozen 
years.  Sader  seemed  to  her  a  very  undistinguished 
person,  —  thickset,  with  a  long  grizzled  beard,  and  like 
a  tradesman  in  his  cotton  blouse.  The  sculptor  shut 
the  door  after  them  and  locked  it;  and,  as  if  to  waive 
commonplaces,  pointed  to  the  famous  gates.  While 
she  was  speculating  over  these  huge  clay  panels,  which 
seemed  to  her  roughly  broken  by  scrolls  and  dashes, 
Sader  mumbled,  "One  is  Fire;  the  other  Water  — 
Dante."  Then  Erard  pointed  here  and  there  to  strange 

48 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  49 

little  figures,  flung  on,  stuck  on  carelessly,  as  if  attached 
to  the  panels  by  chance  when  finished.  Each  figure, 
part  worm,  part  man,  seemed  to  writhe  in  agony.  When 
her  eyes  wandered  over  the  gates,  they  presented  the 
blur  she  had  first  caught.  She  felt  disappointed  with 
herself  and  ashamed  of  her  feeble  imagination. 

Erard  and  Sader  came  to  her  rescue  by  calling  her 
attention  to  other  pieces  of  work,  —  heads  of  children, 
fauns,  half-completed  allegories.  In  an  adjoining  room 
a  young  man,  who  looked  like  an  intelligent  workman, 
was  slowly  chiselling  at  the  curls  of  a  head.  Erard 
pointed  out  another  subject,  which  she  thought  was 
half-finished,  —  a  delicate  head  emerging,  as  from  a 
lake,  out  of  the  hard  white  block.  The  pure  bold 
outline  of  the  face,  the  features  scraped  to  an  ascetic 
thinness,  were  accentuated  by  the  roughness  of  the  un 
finished  marble.  Near  by  was  a  group,  a  man  and  a 
woman  in  a  convulsive  embrace,  half  caught  in  the 
marble,  half  emergent,  as  if  struggling  in  all  their  tense 
limbs  to  escape  from  the  bondage  of  the  stone. 

"That's  his  trick,"  whispered  Erard,  when  Sader  had 
withdrawn  to  the  gates.  "A  kind  of  impressionism  in 
marble.  He  does  a  lot  of  these  little  things.  You  can 
call  7em  what  you  like, — Adam  and  Eve,  Paola  and 
Francesca,  Life  and  Death." 

Miss  Anthon  looked  puzzled  and  hopeless  at  his  blas 
phemy.  Authority  still  counted  for  much  in  her  mind. 
The  sculptor  returned  to  bow  them  out,  with  the  same 
fat,  complacent  smile  with  which  he  had  welcomed 
them. 


50  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"The  old  fool  will  live  to  see  his  stuff  despised,"  Erard 
remarked  carelessly,  when  they  were  on  the  street  again. 
"  They  are  all  trying  to  tell  their  story  in  another  lan 
guage,  straining  to  utter  the  impossible.  But  Matthews 
isn't.  He's  the  American  you  made  so  much  of  in  New 
York  and  Chicago.  He  doesn't  try  any  experiments,  — 
he  knows  too  much  finance  for  that,  —  but  he  tells  the 
whole  story.  Dancing  girls  and  little  boys  and  Venuses, 
—  the  usual  outfit,  as  Wilbur  would  say." 

Then  they  crossed  the  Quarter  to  Matthews'  studio, 
which  was  a  much  more  habitable  place  than  Sader's 
chilly  shed.  They  found  the  sculptor  entertaining  a 
fashionably  dressed  woman  and  her  escort.  This  Mrs. 
Warmister,  whom  Erard  seemed  to  know  rather  inti 
mately,  was  poking  about  the  studio  in  a  nervous  man 
ner,  emitting  now  and  then  admiring  exclamations.  The 
young  man  with  an  impressive  manner  —  Erard  called 
him  Salters  —  tried  clumsily  to  follow  her  inconse 
quential  chatter.  The  sculptor  smoked  a  cigarette  with 
a  bored  air,  while  engaging  in  the  elusive  talk.  "  This 
kind  of  person  infests  the  studios,"  Erard  whispered  to 
his  companion,  indicating  the  voluble  Mrs.  Warmister. 
"She  booms  Matthews,  socially,  and  all  that." 

After  a  short  chat  with  Matthews,  who  made  Miss 
Anthon  feel  that  she  was  at  an  afternoon  tea,  they  drove 
back  towards  the  busy  avenues  along  the  river. 

"He  makes  his  ten  thousand  a  year,"  Erard  com 
mented.  "Nothing  there  you  couldn't •  take  in  at  a 
glance.  The  glorification  of  the  obvious."  In  the  in 
tervals  of  street-racket  Erard's  phrases  dropped  like 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  51 

little  pieces  of  hail.  "  But  he  is  on  a  safer  road  than 
old  Sader.  He  has  stuck  to  the  tradition  of  his  art, 
not  tried  to  paint  with  a  chisel  or  to  tell  stories  with  a 
brush." 

Miss  Anthon  was  depressed  and  silent.  The  conflict 
of  theories  and  ideals,  instead  of  exciting  her,  as  at  first, 
was  subduing.  "There's  something  suggestive  to  me 
in  Sader's  place,  though,"  she  remonstrated  at  last. 
"  We  are  all  striving  for  some  kind  of  freedom,  for  some 
escape,  and  his  figures  make  you  feel  that  impulse." 

When  the  cab  stopped  at  her  hotel,  she  remembered 
gratefully  that  Mrs.  Anthon  had  sallied  forth  with 
an  acquaintance  for  the  afternoon. 

"So  you  are  searching  for  the  means  to  express  an 
unutterable  longing?"  Erard  questioned  mischievously, 
when  they  were  alone. 

She  looked  at  him  restlessly  before  replying,  then  said 
impulsively,  — 

"Shall  I  ever  do  anything?  Tell  me  —  what  is  there 
forme?" 

She  was  leaning  on  her  folded  arms,  her  short  coat 
thrown  open  negligently,  her  hat  laid  aside.  Her  black 
eyes  gleamed  with  the  intense  interest  of  her  appeal. 
Erard  measured  her  face  before  he  replied.  Her  hair 
waved  back  over  her  head  in  thick,  rich  brown  masses. 
The  upper  part  of  the  face  was  thin,  mobile,  but  he 
noticed  for  the  first  time  that  the  chin  and  jaw  over 
balanced  the  other  features. 

"Why  are  you  anxious  to  get  more  than  the  phrases? 
to  talk  'art'  fluently  when  you  are  over  there?"  —  he 


52  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

pointed  vaguely  across  the  boulevard.  "You  can  do 
that  now  pretty  well.  When  you  are  married,  and  have 
your  palace  in  St.  Louis  or  Chicago,  you  can  pay  ten 
times  what  it's  worth  for  the  truck  you  buy  of  us.  You 
can  become  the  patroness." 

Miss  Anthon  drew  back,  hurt,  vexed  at  her  childish 
confidence.  "At  least  I  shall  know  what  to  look  for 
in  those  I  patronize.  And  I  am  not  as  simple  as  you 
seem  to  think." 

The  sting  pleased  Erard.  "  You  have  come  into  the 
procession  too  late  to  do  anything,"  he  continued  more 
seriously.  "  You  should  have  begun  with  your  parents 
and  your  grandparents ;  they  became  unfortunately 
prosperous  and  lived  where  their  senses  were  dulled." 

"Can  I  not  make  up  for  them?" 

"  Only  in  part.  We  Americans  like  to  think,  as  your 
friend  Wilbur  does,  that  we  can  get  anything  on  earth 
we  want.  Europe  is  our  Sphinx;  we  never  penetrate 
the  riddle.  While  we  are  making  toys,  up  springs  some 
offspring  of  these  ' effete '  nations  and  accomplishes  like 
a  giant." 

"  Some  American  women  do  succeed.  There  is  Mrs. 
Ralston  Brown,"  Miss  Anthon  retorted  defiantly.  She 
had  gone  to  the  master  for  confession,  and  he  dealt  her 
out  sneers.  "  And  why  were  the  salons  last  spring  full 
of  foreign  work?  Why  do  the  French  critics  howl  for 
protection  for  French  artists?" 

"  Do  you  want  to  paint  jaunty,  slap-dash  portraits  like 
Mrs.  Brown's  'A  Poet'?  Because  if  you  do,  I  will  prom 
ise  you  a  picture  in  the  Champ  de  Mars  in  five  years." 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  53 

The  bewildered  expression  settled  down  on  her  face 
again.  Mrs.  Ralston  Brown  was  an  instance  of  feminine 
ability  of  which  she  was  proud. 

"  No,  no, "  Erard  continued,  sipping  at  his  tea.  "  Don't 
believe  the  journalists  of  life.  Really  we  Americans 
have  done  nothing  but  journalism  in  the  arts.  Certainly 
many  of  the  'smart'  things  in  the  salons  this  season, 
every  season,  are  signed  with  American  names." 

He  continued  to  lecture  her  in  his  bitter  strain.  Her 
head  ached  over  conflicting  thoughts,  and  she  wished  he 
would  leave  her.  "Not  that  we  shouldn't  try!"  he 
threw  out,  at  last,  as  a  sop  to  her  prejudices.  "But 
try,  my  young  lady,  in  a  way  that  our  lordly  race  is  too 
impatient  to  suffer." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  She  fancied  that  he  had  a 
new  theory  of  training  to  suggest. 

"  Learn  something.  Not  pose  in  the  ridiculous  belief 
that  our  genius  will  create  a  universe  all  for  ourselves. 
New  experiments,  new  inventions  in  education  and  art, 
—  we  patent  'em  by  hundreds, —  as  if  one  could  invent 
the  strands  of  a  cable  that  anchors  the  ship." 

Miss  Anthon  followed  him  eagerly;  now  the  comfort 
ing  definite  word  was  to  be  spoken.  "And  I  person 
ally?  what  am  I  to  do?"  she  asked  insistently. 

"You  are  an  ignorant  young  person." 

She  nodded  humbly. 

"After  learning  a  little  French  and  German,  less 
Latin,  in  some  place  where  they  have  lectures  and  go 
about  in  caps  and  gowns,  you  went  to  an  art-school  for 
a  year  or  two.  In  the  place  you  called  a  college,  you 


54  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

were  taught  a  little  advanced  algebra  and  a  survey  of 
European  history;  perhaps  some  lackadaisical  young 
man  taught  you  to  'love '  Tennyson  and  Browning. 
Now,  chance  having  brought  you  to  Europe,  you  under 
take  'art'  in  the  same  fashion  of  godlike  heedlessness." 

Miss  Anthon  winced  and  then  laughed.  "That's 
about  so,"  she  admitted. 

"And  really  all  you  want  out  of  'art '  or  anything  else 
is  amusement,  and  —  gratification  for  your  vanity." 

"You  think  that  is  all?  Well,  you  have  taken  the  — 
the  —  " 

She  could  have  cried.     Erard  suggested  another  topic, 

"  Why  do  our  Amazons  despise  the  other  rdle  !  Isn't 
it  enough  to  be  clever  and  charming  and  a  woman?  " 

She  looked  at  his  ungainly  figure,  and  curled  her  lip 
haughtily.  If  that  were  her  inevitable  career,  she  would 
not  spend  herself  on  him.  "You  mean  something  be 
tween  a  politician  in  petticoats  and  a  dabbler  in  art ! " 

"Well,  one  of  these  days  we  shall  see  you,  running 
your  little  piece  of  the  world  over  there,  like  our  friend 
Wilbur.  An  'authority7  on  'art,'  a  great  reader  of 
papers  before  clubs,  and  an  'organizer,'  and  a  'power.' 
A  gracious,  energetic  woman,  who  knows  how  to  make 
good  looks  imposing,  to  order  a  large  house  and  make 
herself  felt  in  her  neighbourhood, —  an  important  career 
I  am  sketching  for  you.  Voila  !  " 

He  rose  with  a  disagreeable,  high-pitched  laugh. 
Irony  was  his  keenest  weapon.  It  rendered  him  in 
vulnerable,  because  it  placed  "the  others"  in  a  cate 
gory  by  themselves  —  deluded  simpletons,  who  had  his 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  55 

sympathy.  Miss  Anthon  felt  the  mortification  of  being 
included  among  "the  others." 

"You  have  been  very  good  to  take  me  about,"  she  said 
simply,  with  reserves  of  dignity,  "and  to  tell  me  so 
plainly  that  I  aui  a  —  fool.  I  shall  have  to  leave  you 
now  to  dress  for  dinner." 

When  Erard  had  gone,  she  struggled  to  support  her 
pride.  How  deluded  she  had  been  to  think  that  he 
could  find  anything  important  in  her,  or  could  be  inter 
ested  in  her  abilities!  Like  a  silly  country  girl,  she 
had  been  dreaming  of  —  well,  making  a  noise  in  the 
world.  She  could  never  endure  to  see  him  again,  for  he 
had  read  her  character  too  easily.  And  he  was  right 
in  thinking  her  ridiculous.  She  was  crude:  how  the 
work  she  had  seen  at  the  studios  had  puzzled  her! 
Finally  she  resolved  to  see  him  again,  to  show  him  that 
she  had  sense  enough  left  to  laugh  at  her  own  folly. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE  more  Miss  Anthon  thought  the  matter  over,  the 
more  completely  she  came  to  accept  Erard's  bitter  les 
son.  She  realized  that  her  blindness  had  been  childish, 
and  that  by  opening  her  eyes  he  had  saved  her  many 
futile  hours.  Now  that  she  was  content  to  put  away  vain 
personal  aspirations  Erard  condescended  to  spend  more 
time  than  ever  with  her.  Mrs.  Anthon  grumbled  insist 
ently  at  this  increasing  intimacy,  and,  as  her  sneers  had 
little  effect  on  her  daughter,  inflicted  her  grievances 
upon  her  brother-in-law.  "  Sebastian,"  she  warned  him, 
"  Adela  is  fooling  away  her  time  with  nobodies.  She 
has  had  about  enough  of  this  art  business  and  of  your 
Erard.  You  know  I  only  want  the  best  for  my  children, 
and  I  have  never  crossed  her  anywheres.  But  that  man 
has  altogether  too  much  influence  with  her.  She  may 
start  up  any  day  and  do  some  crazy  thing,  as  she  did 
about  Wilbur.  She  may  take  it  into  her  head  to  marry 
Erard!"  Mrs.  Anthon  gasped  at  the  enormity  of  her 
own  imagination.  4 

"He  had  the  brass,"  she  explained  to  her  son,  "to 
want  Sebastian  to  take  him  to  Spain  this  spring,  along 
with  Ada  and  me." 

"You  must  do  him  the  justice,"  the  old  man  smiled, 
66 


THE   GOSPEL   OF    FREEDOM  57 

"to  admit  that  lie  didn't  put  it  exactly  that  way;  in  fact, 
the  proposition  was  made  by  me." 

"I  knew  what  he  was  after,"  Mrs.  Anthon  continued; 
"he  just  pulls  you  around." 

Yet  had  Mrs.  Anthon  been  aware  of  the  sum  of 
Erard's  preaching,  she  could  hardly  have  found  it  het 
erodox.  It  was  a  less  practical  and  blunt  phrasing  of 
her  own  aspirations.  For  she  had  dreamed  in  an  igno 
rant  delusion  that  Europe  meant  inevitable  matrimony 
for  a  good-looking  American  girl  with  some  money.  Be 
fore  her  husband's  death  she  would  have  been  satisfied 
with  a  homely  domestic  match,  but  travel  had  expanded 
her  views.  Sh'e  threatened  now  to  remove  Adela  to  Aix- 
les-Bains  when  the  season  opened. 

Why  Mrs.  Anthon  had  selected  Aix-les-Bains  was  a 
mystery  to  every  one  but  her  daughter,  who  knew  that 
on  the  steamer  her  mother  had  become  enamoured  of  a 
globe-trotting  New  York  woman.  In  the  long  hours  of 
confidential  chat,  when  the  ennui  of  steamer  life  causes 
women  to  enter  upon  the  confidences  of  the  deathbed, 
Mrs.  King  Hamilton  had  learned  the  Anthon  situation 
minutely.  Mrs.  King  Hamilton  had  advised  Aix-les- 
Bains,  and  marriage  for  the  daughter  via  A.  1.  B.  She 
cited  numerous  acquaintances  whose  daughters  had  im 
bibed  matrimony  at  Aix-les-Bains.  But  if  nothing  came 
of  that  venture,  there  was  Trouville,  and  then  London, 
where  Mrs.  Anthon  could  count  on  the  old  intimacy 
between  her  husband  and  the  present  ambassador. 
Thus  Sebastian  Anthon,  wistfully  looking  Spainwards, 
and  Adela  Anthon,  satisfied  to  remain  indefinitely  in 


58  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

Paris,  were  being  persistently  shoved  towards  Aix-les- 
Bains. 

"Well,  Sebastian/'  Mrs.  Anthon  concluded  defiantly 
on  one  occasion  after  they  had  been  over  the  old  ground, 
"you  can  give  Erard  notice  that  we  shan't  put  ourselves  in 
his  paws.  Ada  is  off  with  him  now  at  Durand-Iiuell's 
to  look  at  some  picture  no  young  girl  ought  to  look  at 
with  a  man.  He  will  entrap  her  into  a  low  marriage." 

Mrs.  Anthon  worked  on  her  amiable  brother-in-law's 
nerves.  Few  things  in  life  seemed  to  him  worth  stand 
ing  out  for  against  the  acid  speech  of  his  brother  John's 
wife.  He  was  tempted  to  sneak  off  to  Spain  by  himself 
after  all,  but  he  reflected  that  such  a  course  would  leave 
Adela  in  the  lurch.  Moreover,  a  marriage  with  Erard 
was  a  possible  eccentricity.  His  niece  had  begun  to 
explode.  She  might  explode  further  in  this  direction 
—  and  that  would  not  be  best,  on  the  whole.  After  a  few 
weeks  of  vacillation,  during  which  his  defence  of  Erard 
weakened  under  Mrs.  Anthon' s  robust  attacks,  he  was 
driven  to  take  aggressive  measures. 

It  was  a  dull  March  day  when  he  betook  himself  to 
Erard' s  apartment.  The  boulevards  seemed  to  weep, 
and  the  few  pedestrians  were  scuffling  along  as  if  abject 
poverty  were  their  sole  excuse  for  being  out  on  foot  in 
such  weather.  The  old  man  had  made  up  his  mind  what 
to  do,  painfully,  because  he  disliked  change  of  any  kind 
in  itself,  and  especially  did  he  shrink  from  taking  harsh 
measures  with  this  protege'.  Severity  in  Erard's  case 
was  like  cruelty  to  his  own  youth. 

Erard  was  taking  his  coffee  in  the  salon  in  company 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  59 

with  Mrs.  Warmister  and  Sailers.  Sebastian  Antlion 
knew  Mrs.  Warmister  by  reputation.  She  had  been 
married  to  a  quiet  iron  manufacturer  a  dozen  years  ago. 
Mrs.  Warmister  had  been  much  in  evidence  ever  since, 
but  no  one  ever  heard  of  the  iron  man.  It  was  gener 
ally  reported  that  the  couple  were  not  divorced,  —  not 
from  any  fault  of  hers,  the  less  well  informed  said;  the 
better  informed  held  that  husband  and  wife  understood 
each  other. 

"Perhaps  she  will  take  him  over,"  the  old  man  re 
flected,  as  he  exchanged  greetings  with  the  excitable, 
effusive  woman.  "How  homely,  after  all  the  fuss  over 
her, "  he  concluded,  watching  the  dark  lines  of  the  jaded 
face. 

They  were  discussing  some  purchase  that  Mrs.  War- 
mister  had  in  mind.  Salters  was  delivering  his  opinion 
in  a  ponderous  voice. 

"  Really,  my  dear  Mrs.  Warmister,  you  couldn't  take 
that  back  with  you.  It  would  be  positively  wicked 
to  hang  it.  We  know  it  isn't  a  Vandyke,  don't  we, 
Erard?" 

Pity,  Mr.  Anthon  mused,  that  Erard  should  be  thrown 
into  her  hands.  She  looked  so  —  cheap.  Mrs.  War- 
mister's  face  wore  a  perpetual  grimace.  She  had  been 
told  that  her  power  lay  in  expression,  and  consequently 
she  had  cultivated  a  distressingly  perpetual  mobility. 

"Don't  let  her  do  it,  Erard,"  the  heavy  young  man 
pleaded  with  pathetic  intensity.  "  Think  what  it  means 
for  our  reputation  as  connoisseurs." 

"Well!"     Mrs.  Warmister  rose,  laughing  nervously. 


60  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"  Whatever  Mr.  Erard  decides,  I  suppose  I  shall  do.  I 
am  in  his  hands."  Then  she  departed,  taking  the  urgent 
Mr.  Salters  with  her. 

"Two  idiots  gone,"  Erard  sighed.  "Salters  is  a  New 
York  man,  a  nobody  with  money,  who  has  been  over  here 
a  dozen  years  trying  to  learn  something  about  fine  art. 
He  knows  a  lot  of  people  and  gives  dinners.  One  has 
to  tolerate  the  ass  —  he  brings  in  game.  The  woman 
might  know  something;  but  she  is  crazy  for  reclame. 
They  say  she  hires  the  Paris  Herald  to  publish  a  para 
graph  about  her  once  a  week,  no  matter  how  scandalous. 
She  turns  up  about  every  year,  and  I  have  to  take  her 
around.  She  buys  whatever  I  tell  her  to." 

While  Erard  flung  out  these  biographical  items,  he 
was  arranging  photographs  011  a  large  rack  that  stood 
like  a  desk  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  where  the  best 
daylight  reached  it. 

"These  are  the  things  at  Madrid,"  he  explained  casu 
ally.  "  Half  these  Goyas  must  be  spurious.  He  is  an 
intricate  person,  though." 

Sebastian  Anthon  glanced  at  the  photographs  ner 
vously.  "I  am  afraid  I  shan't  be  able  to  take  the 
Spanish  trip.  My  sister-in-law  has  her  mind  made  up 
on  Rome  and  then  some  watering-places,  and  I  am  over 
here  this  time  for  her  and  my  niece." 

Although  Erard  made  no  sign,  his  hands  came  to  a 
pause.  Mr.  Anthon  began  again,  sighing.  "I  came 
over  to  have  a  general  talk,  Erar^d." 

The  young  man  turned  from  the  rack  and  motioned  his 
visitor  to  a  chair. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM  61 

"These  other  —  well,  less  definite  occupations,  seem 
to  take  more  of  your  time  and  attention.  You  don't 
paint  as  much  as  you  did." 

Erard  waited,  thereby  increasing  the  old  man's  embar 
rassment.  "  I  know  your  idea  —  education,  but  it  means 
less  active  —  accomplishment.  You  don't  paint,  you 
know."  He  ended  with  this  feeble  reiteration.  Still 
Erard  kept  a  mouselike  silence. 

"You  may  be  right.  I  don't  pretend  to  know.  I 
shouldn't  want  to  interfere.  But  —  well  —  I  think  we 
should  terminate  our  —  " 

Erard  moved  his  hand  lightly,  as  if  to  spare  the  further 
embarrassment  of  explicit  statement.  "  Of  course !  " 

"  I  have  been  tremendously  interested  in  you,  my  boy, " 
Mr.  Anthon  continued  more  easily,  "  and  I  am  now.  So 
I  thought  I  wouldn't  write  it."  He  smiled  sweetly. 
"  Now,  you  mustn't  take  it  hard  or  be  disturbed.  I  shall 
leave  a  hundred  or  two  at  my  banker's  —  " 

Erard  protested.     "No;  that  will  not  be  necessary." 

Mr.  Anthon' s  face  clouded  over.  He  had  evidently 
bungled.  Yet  he  was  secretly  glad  to  have  this  evidence 
of  right  feeling  to  throw  at  his  sister-in-law. 

"  Don't  be  in  haste  about  it.  You  will  find  the  money 
there  in  case  you  need  it." 

"  I  shall  not  draw  another  penny.  It  would  be  quite 
impossible  —  now  that  I  have  lost  your  sympathy." 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Warmister  has  already  taken  him  over, 
the  old  man  reflected  uncomfortably.  They  talked  for  a 
few  minutes  of  other  matters.  Then,  as  he  rose  to  leave 
and  buttoned  up  his  frockcoat,  he  glanced  about  the 


62  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

charming  rooms.  The  possibility  of  Erard' s  difficulties 
troubled  him. 

"My  boy/'  he  said,  with  a  winning  smile,  as  they 
stood  in  the  hall.  "My  boy,"  he  laid  his  hand  lightly 
on  Erard's  thin  shoulder.  "Believe  me,  I  want  to  do 
the  best  thing  for  you.  And  you  must  take  the  money, 
two  or  three  hundred  at  least,  you  must  —  " 

Erard  shook  his  head,  as  if  annoyed,  and  said  in  his 
most  mincing  tones,  — 

"When  you  are  in  Rome,  can  you  find  out  for  me 
whether  they  have  taken  away  that  Erancia  in  the 
Borghese.  I'll  write  you  a  note  of  it.  Good-by." 

Mr.  Anthon  went  out  into  the  dull  March  twilight, 
sad  at  heart.  "He'll  have  to  beg  of  others,  and  that 
will  be  worse."  He  reflected  that  his  "  doing  the  best " 
for  Erard  was  due  largely  to  his  sister-in-law's  nagging. 
"  Poor  John, "  he  murmured,  "  what  a  wife !  " 

He  tried  to  ^excuse  himself  on  the  score  of  his  niece. 
"If  it  hadn't  been  for  Adela,  I  wouldn't  have  thought 
of  it."  For,  however  liberally  he  might  regard  Erard, 
he  couldn't  welcome  him  as  Adela's  husband. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Miss  MOLLY  PARKER  was  a  unifying  force  in  the 
Anthon  family.  Mrs.  Anthon  and  Molly  had  discovered 
two  common  passions,  dress  and  food.  They  would 
spend  long  mornings  driving  about  to  shops,  discussing 
bargains  and  prices  and  subtleties  of  style.  And  they 
had  tested  and  classified  a  long  list  of  restaurants.  Molly 
was  a  gourmand ;  Mrs.  Anthon  called  herself  "  a  hearty 
eater."  Whatever  was  amiable  and  warm-hearted  in 
Mrs.  Anthon,  the  enthusiastic  young  woman  brought 
out.  "  Molly  really  likes  her,"  Miss  Anthon  admitted 
gratefully,  "and  mamma  behaves  better  when  she  is 
about." 

Sebastian  Anthon,  also,  in  his  quiet  fashion,  paid 
tribute  to  the  new  friend.  He  took  her  on  long  walks, 
and  frequently  of  a  Sunday  morning  he  appeared  in 
Passy  with  large  boxes  of  chocolate  from  the  Coup  d'Or. 
The  two  roamed  over  old  Paris,  followed  the  shop  win 
dows,  and  knew  the  recesses  of  many  a  printshop. 
"Your  dear  old  uncle  has  walked  his  feet  off,"  Miss 
Parker  would  exclaim  on  their  return.  "He's  such  a 
dear ! " 

Molly  Parker  knew  all  about  Erard  and  Wilbur, 
about  the  Water-Hoister  and  the  new  company.  Miss 
Anthon  spent  many  a  morning,  these  early  spring  days, 

63 


64  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

in  the  little  garden  behind  the  Passy  house,  finding  there 
a  peaceful  atmosphere  of  rest  and  naturalness.  The 
studio  had  grown  loathsome  since  Erard  had  delivered 
his  opinion  on  her  case.  A  few  days  after  the  family 
conference  Miss  Anthon  brought  out  with  her  Wilbur's 
first  report  of  affairs  in  Chicago.  It  was  buoyant.  Miss 
Parker  sighed  a  little  enviously. 

"  How  nice  it  must  be  to  be  rich ! " 

"  What  would  you  do  if  you  were  rich  ?  " 

Miss  Parker  opened  her  eyes  enthusiastically. 

"  I'd  buy  trunkfuls  of  these  fascinating  things,"  she 
held  up  a  chemise  they  had  been  examining.  "  And  some 
dresses,  I  suppose,  though  I  don't  care  for  dresses  so 
much  as  all  the  white  things,  with  lace  and  embroidery." 
Then  her  eyes  grew  thoughtful  as  she  contemplated 
more  permanent  acquisitions.  "  I  would  have  a  cottage 
in  the  country,  somewhere  in  the  woods,  and  I  would 
have  pigs  and  horses  and  cows  and  chickens  and  roses 
and  dogs.  And  have  all  white  dimity,  you  know. 
Coffee  in  bed  and  nothing  to  do  all  the  morning  but 
putter  around." 

Adela  Anthon  laughed.  "  Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  a 
man  ?  " 

Miss  Parker  opened  a  pair  of  astonished  eyes.  "  Why  ? 
I  should  have  to  work,  and  I  couldn't  wear  dresses. 
Do  you  know  the  story  about  the  monkeys  ?  If  they 
showed  they  could  work  they  would  have  to  do  some 
thing.  See?  So  they  have  never  let  on  what  they 
could  do.  Terrible  wise,  the  monkeys." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  will  marry." 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  65 

"I  suppose  so,"  she  sighed.  "Mrs.  Dexter  thinks  I 
am  hard  to  suit.  They  say  I  am  flirtatious  and  not 
serious  ;  but  I  have  to  let  the  men  talk.  I  can't  tell 
whether  a  man  will  be  the  right  one  until  he  has  made 
love  to  me.  You  see  when  a  nice  young  man  comes 
along  I  think  he  may  be  the  one,  and  he  interests  me 
terribly.  I  let  him  talk  and  talk,  and  then  when  he 
proposes  he  scares  me,  for  I  find  I  don't  want  him.  It's 
so  hard  to  get  rid  of  them  nicely  without  hurting  their 
pride  too  much.  Mrs.  Dexter  says  I  shall  be  an  old 
maid,  and  it  will  all  be  my  own  fault.  I  haven't  any 
money,  she  says,  and  only  enough  good  looks  to  carry 
me  a  little  way,  and  no  accomplishments.  I  shouldn't 
be  so  stuck  on  myself.  But  I  can't  help  it,  and  I  sup 
pose  I  may  be  an  old  maid.  Wouldn't  it  be  awful, 
though,  not  to  be  married  in  the  end,  and  not  to  have 
any  kids  ?  " 

Miss  Anthon  kissed  her  laughingly.  "No  danger! 
What  did  you  do  with  Walter?  Did  he  propose  this 
time  ?  " 

Miss  Parker  looked  at  her  friend  slyly,  until  the  two 
laughed  again  nervously.  "He  doesn't  really  want  to 
do  anything  so  rash.  It  would  be  nice  to  be  your  sister. 
Not  if  you  should  marry  Erard,  though." 

Miss  Anthon  moved  nervously.  "There's  little  dan 
ger  !  He  has  dismissed  me  from  serious  consideration, 
told  me  I  was  an  idiot." 

"But  you  couldn't  anyway,"  Miss  Parker  protested. 
"He  is  so  queer" 

"It  would  be  worth  doing  to  see  how  Walter  would 


66  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

take  it.  But  the  family  have  banished  him  somehow ; 
or,  perhaps,  he  has  become  tired  of  my  crudity." 

The  spring  sunshine  tempted  her  to  stroll  homewards 
through  the  Bois,  which  was  deserted  at  this  hour  except 
by  a  few  waddling  children  with  their  nurses,  or  an 
occasional  bicyclist  on  his  way  to  the  country.  The 
ground  steaming  in  the  midday  warmth  gave  out  entic 
ing  suggestions  of  woodland  things,  of  wild  fields  and 
rocks,  with  deep  pastures  between.  For  the  moment 
Paris  was  quite  intolerable,  and  the  life  of  "hanging 
on  the  outskirts  of  art"  (as  Erard  had  described  her 
existence)  too  mortifying  to  endure.  She  was  almost 
at  the  point  when  it  would  be  more  tolerable  to  return 
to  America,  to  "  become  interested  in  church  work,"  or 
to  accept  any  form  of  the  inevitable  commonplace. 
There  was  but  one  distinctly  agreeable  sensation,  beyond 
the  comfort  of  the  day  and  the  pleasure  of  a  cool  shirt 
waist  and  rough  skirt,  and  that  was  in  the  shape  of  a 
letter  from  Wilbur  which  sent  an  invigorating  thrill 
over  her  egotistical  musings.  It  was  an  exuberant,  yet 
curt,  business  letter,  written  on  a  broad  sheet  of  paper 
with  an  elaborate  lithograph  head,  representing  curious 
machines ;  a  letter  dashed  off  in  the  sweat  and  hurly- 
burly  of  success  when  actions  were  so  full  that  words 
seemed  colourless  counters.  The  initial  moves  had  been 
properly  played.  Wilbur  had  arrived  in  time. 

"  I  stopped  in  Boston  and  saw  the  Rantoul  man  on  my 
way  out.  So  I  arrived  primed.  Dinsmore  smiled  when 
he  saw  I  had  the  drop  on  him  and  wanted  to  know  how. 
Then  I  smiled.  .  .  ."  There  was  a  paragraph  of  hastily 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  67 

sketched  plans,  a  few  words  about  the  headquarters  in 
Chicago  already  started,  possible  immediate  extension 
into  new  industrial  fields,  etc.  He  was  about  to  start 
for  Kansas.  At  the  close  came,  "Stock  is  selling  at 
50;  I  bought  yours  at  30."  Nothing  but  that  scrap 
of  justification  tucked  in,  which  he  knew  would  delight 
her,  not  for  the  money  gained,  but  for  the  justification 
itself,  —  the  pleasure  of  triumphing  over  Mrs.  Anthon 
and  Sebastian  Anthon.  Here  in  the  dainty  solitude  of 
the  play-wood,  it  was  delightful  to  follow  the  details 
of  this  man's  rapid,  virile  action:  the  conferences,  the 
skilful  guidance,  the  quick  judgment,  the  importance 
of  making  a  right  decision  on  the  moment.  Confidence 
in  one's  powers  was  life,  freedom.  She  breathed  more 
rapidly  as  her  imagination  filled  in  the  scant  letter. 
Then  she  sighed  unconsciously. 

For  she  was  tied.  She  was  mereJy  a  distant  spectator 
at  the  commercial  game.  From  envy  of  the  male  part  in 
it,  she  began  to  speculate  on  this  man  Wilbur,  imagina 
tively  accrediting  him  with  great  qualities.  Yet,  clearly, 
it  was  not  the  moneymaking  that  she  cared  for,  but  the 
drama,  —  where  dollars  were  the  figures  of  speech. 

"Anyhow,  that"  she  spoke  aloud,  meaning  the  partner 
ship  with  Wilbur,  "  has  been  thoroughly  worth  while." 

With  this  consoling  reflection  she  picked  up  her  first 
business  letter,  and  turned  towards  the  nearest  city  gate, 
choosing  the  least  sophisticated  paths.  As  she  neared 
the  Porte  Maillot,  at  a  bend  in  the  woodpath,  she  came 
upon  Erard  walking  slowly,  seemingly  still  on  tiptoe, 
as  if  eyeing  through  his  little  glasses  some  belle  ceuvre  of 


68  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FEEEDOM 

nature,  yet  in  puzzlement,  tugging  thoughtfully  at  his 
beard.  Her  first  impulse  to  wait  until  Erard  had  passed 
on  around  the  next  curve,  gave  way  to  a  quick  resolution. 
If  she  was  to  leave  Paris  in  a  few  days  she  would  want  to 
write  or  say  farewell :  why  not  here,  without  incurring  a 
further  outbreak  from  her  mother  ?  There  had  been  no 
sentimental  flutters  in  her  relations  with  Erard ;  indeed, 
in  all  she  had  not  seen  him  so  very  many  times,  although 
each  interview  had  seemed  to  her  to  mark  a  little  epoch 
in  her  intellectual  life.  So  she  kept  up  her  pace  and 
overtook  him. 

"  It  is  a  good  place  to  say  good-by  in,"  she  remarked 
carelessly,  as  he  raised  his  hat  in  his  awkward  school 
boy  fashion.  "You  know  my  mother  has  coerced  us, 
Uncle  Sebastian  and  me.  We  are  to  be  carried  to  Rome 
and  then  to  some  dreadful  baths." 

Erard  smiled  maliciously.  "  Mrs.  Anthon  and  I  are  of 
the  same  opinion." 

Miss  Anthon  laughed  pleasantly  at  the  idea  of  her 
mother  agreeing  with  any  belief  advanced  by  Simeon 
Erard.  - 

"  Matrimony,"  he  added  with  a  slight  sneer,  "  not  art, 
will  be  your  fittest  medium  of  expression." 

Miss  Anthon' s  face  twitched  nervously.  "  I  am  really 
too  happy  this  morning  to  reprove  you,  over  good  news." 
She  explained  her  letter. 

"And  I  am  sad,  over  news  of  my  immediate  bank 
ruptcy  !  "  Erard  responded  gaily. 

Although  nothing  explicit  had  been  said  to  her  by  her 
mother  or  uncle,  .Miss  Anthon  had  gathered  from  broad 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  69 

hints  that  Mrs.  Anthon  had  brought  about  some  kind  of 
a  catastrophe  in  Erard's  affairs. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  your  own  advice  ?  "  Miss  Anthon 
hazarded,  assuming  his  tone  of  hilarity. 

"  Matrimony !  Passing  over  the  insult  you  have  deftly 
insinuated,  I  should  say  merely  that  the  solution  of  a 
rich  wife  would  offer  too  many  difficulties.  Of  course  I 
have  entertained  the  idea  several  times,  and  each  time  I 
have  definitely  put  it  aside.  Between  the  two  evils  of  a 
patron  and  a  wife,  the  first  is  less  limiting.  Marriage 
with  the  ordinary  woman  of  fortune  would  spoil  my 
work;  it  would  demand  time,  —  beyond  the  mere  emo 
tional  adjustment  which  might  disturb  my  intellectual 
processes.  I  cannot  afford  to  marry  even  the  ideal 
heiress.  If  I  could  find  a  partner  who  would  be  of  sub 
stantial  assistance  at  the  plough  as  well  as  provide  pot 
tage  —  like  these  French  women  —  ah !  that  would  be 
another  thing.  But  that  kind  of  arrangement,  you  may 
conceive,  is  hard  to  make." 

"I  admire  your  frankness  and  your  method!"  the 
young  woman  exclaimed. 

"I  am  not  stupid  —  over  stupid,  Miss  Anthon,"  Erard 
went  on  coolly.  "  I  understand  exactly  the  contempt  a 
woman  like  your  mother  has  for  me,  also  the  gossip  my 
way  of  life  furnishes  my  good  friends.  I  am  an  advent 
urer.  I  came  from  a  nasty  back  street  of  Jersey  City, 
and  according  to  report,  I  have  managed  to  make  the 
world  support  me  in  luxurious  idleness.  Why,  only 
last  week  your  uncle,  that  dear,  gentle,  old  Mr.  Anthon, 
said :  '  See  here,  my  boy,  I  can't  conscientiously  go  on 


70  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

supporting  you  over  here  and  lending  my  reputation 
towards  getting  you  patrons.  You  are  enjoying  the 
cream,  —  just  the  kind  of  life  dozens  of  young  men,  sons 
of  my  acquaintances,  are  sighing  for.'  'And/  he  implied, 
'  you  have  nothing  to  show  for  it.  If  you  were  doing  like 
the  others,  now,  something  Bohemian,  and  bringing  out 
results '  —  you  know  the  story." 

"  Well,  why  not  ?  "  Miss  Anthon  stopped  her  leisurely 
pace.  "  What's  your  passport  ?  " 

"  You,  too,  can  take  that  tone  ? "  he  glanced  at  her 
searchingly.  "  My  passport  is  here,"  he  tapped  himself, 
half  ironically,  "  which,  by  the  way,  is  the  same  passport 
that  carried  your  young  friend  Wilbur  through  his  diffi 
culties.  Don't  you  suppose  that  I  realize  all  this  sus 
picion  and  contempt  ?  that  I  know  well  enough  that  the 
kicking  is  waiting  for  me  if  I  fail  in  the  end  ? 

"But  there  will  be  no  failure,"  he  continued,  impres 
sively.  "I  have  taken  the  right  road.  I  haven't  any 
time  for  silly  scruples  —  for  money-getting.  That  faculty 
of  scraping  up  dollars  is  an  inferior  one,  and  those  who 
have  it  must  contribute  to  me.  The  world  slwll  support 
me;  it  shall  give  me  my  time  —  that's  the  great  lux 
ury —  and  my  peace,  too,  until  in  my  own  way  I  have 
completed  my  work.  Some  century  hence  your  uncle 
will  be  known  by  a  footnote  in  my  biography.  And  one 
should  not  grudge  a  heavy  payment  for  fame,  however 
it  may  come  or  however  modest  it  may  be." 

Miss  Anthon  was  impressed  by  the  fervour  of  the  man's 
passion  for  his  own  life,  by  his  unbounding  egotism,  by 
his  force.  It  excited  her  in  much  the  same  way  that 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM  71 

Wilbur's  little  epic  had  excited  her;  only,  with  this 
difference :  here  was  a  creed,  a  consistent  valuation  of 
facts.  And  this  creed  seemed  grander,  vaguer,  with  limit 
less  ends.  It  demanded  more  faith  from  its  believers, 
but  for  that  reason  it  was  not  unacceptable  to  a  woman. 

"  The  world  must  believe  in  you,  like  a  prophet  with 
out  works,  at  present.  Success  is  its  own  justification. 
Yet  that  is  a  brutal  doctrine,"  the  girl  mused. 

"  It  is  a  great  law  of  life,"  Erard  asserted,  "  both  for 
the  despot  and  the  stock-broker." 

"I  believe  it,"  she  assented.  "I  believe  you.  Of 
course  accidents  may  come,  such  as  disease  or  death, 
leaving  you  a  wreck  with  a  broken  reputation.  But  that 
is  the  risk  you  take  voluntarily,  as  well  as  the  pain  of 
always  being  a  dependent.  You  have  no  time  to  make 
compromises  with  life,  to  spend  your  strong,  creative 
years  earning  your  freedom.  You  are  right ! " 

Her  sympathy,  always  so  ready  to  go  out  to  anything 
which  promised  relief  from  triviality,  invested  Erard 
with  the  interest  of  a  hero.  What  he  might  accomplish 
ultimately,  its  value  to  himself,  to  others,  intrinsically, 
was  a  small  matter.  He  despised  the  world,  treated  it 
haughtily,  and  that  was  enough  for  her.  It  was  pleasant, 
too,  to  know  that  she  might  possibly  have  a  share  in 
this  large  venture,  just  as  she  had  taken  part  in  Wilbur's 
crisis.  Erard  was  still  within  her  range. 

And  Erard,  himself,  was  the  most  interesting  man 
she  had  ever  known.  Her  pride  was  exquisitely  flat 
tered  at  the  thought  of  her  own  emancipation  in  sympa 
thizing  with  him  thus  instead  of  despising  him.  She  could 


72  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

hold  him,  as  it  were,  aloof,  and  judge  him  as  the  others, 
morally,  according  to  the  old  code ;  and  then  accept  him 
when  he  tickled  her  intellect. 

Erard  took  her  into  his  confidence  as  one  who  was 
liberal  enough  to  understand  his  case.  He  took  pains 
to  explain  his  reasons  for  drawing  away  from  painting 
and  enlarging  his  critical  field  —  some  of  the  reasons. 
He  talked  freely,  without  irony  now,  partly  from  a 
natural  yearning  to  justify  and  magnify  his  sinuous 
existence,  and  partly  because  this  eager-minded  woman 
was  the  much-beloved  niece  of  Sebastian  Anthon.  He 
charmed  her  with  intimate  confessions. 

"  The  thing  that  must  stand  out  from  me  embodied  — 
mine,  yet  not  mine,  —  cannot  be  born  from  nothing, 
from  unconscious  nature.  Into  me  must  enter  a  know 
ledge  of  past  experiments  .  .  .  man  cannot  cut  himself 
off  from  the  tradition;  he  can  only  push  on  a  step 
beyond." 

To  her  excited  imagination  this  vague  doctrine  implied 
a  new  great  art.  He  described  his  manner  of  approach 
in  large  phrases,  and  with  bravado  told  how  he  had 
"  cultivated  his  receptive  powers  as  delicately  as  a  French 
market-garden.  To  have  a  most  finely  sensitive  sensorium 
—  that  is  the  first  necessity.  Now  I  am  schooled,"  he 
ended  cynically,  "  they  tell  me,  '  Use  yourself  in  teaching 
or  painting  portraits  of  corpses  like  Mrs.  Warmister. 
Turn  your  nicely  sharpened  sword  to  whittling  wood/ 
Never ! " 

"Cutting  beefsteaks  would  be  a  truer  figure/'  Miss 
Anthon  suggested,  with  a  laugh  to  lower  the  tension. 


THE   GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM  73 

"  You  have  let  me  make  a  fool  of  myself ! " 

«]STo  —  I  have  almost  made  a  fool  of  myself"  She 
quickened  her  pace;  both  speculated  for  a  silent  min 
ute  on  what  she  meant.  She  felt  that  she  was  danger 
ously  near  another  explosion,  and  she  was  struggling  for 
time  to  take  a  calm  look. 

"But  one  doesn't  mind  playing  the  fool  before  you, 
for  you  are  so  superbly  tolerant,"  Erard  ventured. 

She  flushed.  "Horribly  crude,  though,  you  told  me 
the  other  day." 

"  To  set  you  on  the  right  road,"  he  answered  quickly, 
"  and  not  let  you  run  to  waste." 

"  Then  I  am  some  good  ?  "  she  stopped  and  faced  him 
nervously. 

"You  have  the  great  rebellion,"  he  answered  im 
pressively. 

"Yes,"  she  exclaimed,  surprised  at  his  divination. 
"  Something  makes  me  sympathetic  with  any  rebellion.  I 
feel  as  if  I  wanted  to  take  the  present  in  my  hands  and 
crush  it.  And  you  are  responsible  for  unchaining  the 
animal  in  me,  for  rousing  an  appetite.  I  shall  die  if  I 
can't  feed  the  animal  somehow ! " 

He  looked  at  her  quietly,  reassuringly.  Then  they 
continued  on  their  way  to  the  Porte  Maillot.  Erard  had 
added  another  member  to  his  chorus. 


CHAPTER  IX 

WHEN  Miss  Anthon  reached  the  hotel,  she  found  her 
mother  and  the  newly  imported  maid  bustling  over 
trunks. 

"  Your  uncle  received  a  cable  this  morning  that  calls 
him  home  on  important  business,"  Mrs.  Anthon  ex 
plained,  "  and  I  thought  we  might  as  well  move  on  at 
the  same  time.  Just  as  well  for  Sebastian  to  be  out  of 
that  fellow's  way." 

"  Does  uncle  mean  to  leave  him  to  starve  ? "  Miss 
Anthon  inquired  quickly. 

"  Starve  or  work,  I  guess.  That's  the  law  in  this 
world." 

Miss  Anthon  went  into  her  own  room  without  further 
words.  Her  mother's  remark  suddenly  gave  point  to  the 
vague  impulses  of  the  hour's  talk  with  Erard.  She  must 
come  to  a  decision  at  once. 

As  she  sat  down  by  her  table  with  a  sheet  of  letter- 
paper  ready,  she  paused,  for  the  act  which  she  meditated 
might  cost  her  much  more  than  money.  Should  she  offer 
him  support  bluntly,  or  try  some  other  means  —  her  uncle, 
perhaps  ?  What  gossip  might  say  did  not  trouble  her. 
But  a  draft  sent  and  accepted,  that  closed  any  other  pos 
sibility.  There  was  no  other  possibility  now.  She  might 
never  love  him.  Should  she  love  him,  why  need  the 

74 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  75 

fact  that  she  had  helped  him,  alter  their  relations  ?  In 
the  gamble  of  life  she  happened  to  have  superfluous 
advantages.  Might  she  not  share  these,  in  a  simple, 
objective  manner,  without  compromising  herself?  She 
was  giving  to  life,  not  to  Simeon  Erard,  and  they  must 
be  able  to  rise  above  the  mean  considerations  involved. 
Finally  she  wrote,  deliberately :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  MR.  ERARD  :  —  I  feel  that  I  must  have  a 
share,  even  a  very  little  share,  in  your  work,  in  your 
ambitions  and  theories.  Where  I  cannot  hope  to  go, 
you  may,  perhaps,  more  easily  through  my  help.  So  I 
have  taken  the  liberty  to  place  at  your  disposal,  at  the 
Messrs.  Munro,  a  draft  to  be  used  in  '  going  on.'  Every 
six  months  that  will  be  renewed.  You  see,  my  first 
venture  succeeded,  giving  me  a  surplus  which  I  wish  to 
invest  again.  And  I  owe  to  you  so  much  real  interest 
in  life  that  I  feel  I  must  show  a  little  gratitude.  You 
need  not  acknowledge  this. 

"Believe  me,  ever  sincerely  yours, 

"  ADELA  ANTHON." 

She  had  no  sooner  posted  this  note  than  she  was  im 
patient  to  receive  a  reply.  Would  he  possibly  refuse  ? 
She  was  amazed  to  find  herself  hoping  that  he  would.  If 
he  accepted  —  and  she  had  sent  the  note  in  all  sincerity  — 
there  would  be  a  bar  to  any  other  relation.  This  scruple 
was  conventional,  irrational,  but  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  rise  above  it. 

The  next  two  days  were  full  of  preparations,  and  when 
on  the  day  of  departure,  just  as  they  were  about  to  drive 


76  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

to  the  station,  the  reply  came,  she  waited  until  they 
were  settled  in  their  coupe  to  read  it  at  leisure.  It  was 
above  reproach,  self-respecting  and  yet  cordial.  He  did 
not  make  too  much  of  her  gift,  nor  did  he  belittle  the 
kindness.  He  placed  the  whole  matter  in  a  simple, 
objective  light,  as  she  had  wished.  The  gift  was  not  to 
him,  but  to  be  used  by  him.  The  note  closed  with  a 
paragraph  on  a  new  book  he  was  sending  her. 

She  had  read  the  note  at  one  breath;  then  leaning 
back  with  a  sigh,  she  passed  it  out  of  the  window  to  her 
uncle,  who  had  come  to  see  them  off. 

"We  have  changed  places,  uncle,"  she  whispered, 
slyly.  "  When  you  are  in  America  you  can't  be  both 
ered  with  all  this." 

Sebastian  Anthon's  face  expressed  astonishment  and 
in  a  moment  merriment.  The  joke  in  the  situation  evi 
dently  made  the  deeper  impression,  but  as  the  engine 
snorted,  he  whispered  back,  "  Take  care,  you  are  explod 
ing  pretty  fast !  " 

She  watched  him  walk  up  the  platform,  laughing  un 
restrainedly,  probably  in  appreciation  of  Mrs.  Anthon's 
remarks  when  she  discovered  the  event.  Miss  Anthon 
allowed  her  mother  to  get  comfortably  settled.  Then, 
anxious  to  have  the  matter  out  of  her  mind,  she  said 
quietly,  "  Mother,  I  have  offered  Mr.  Erard  four  hundred 
pounds  a  year  to  continue  his  work  with,  and  he  has 
accepted  it." 

If  she  had  said  that  she  had  offered  herself,  Mrs. 
Anthon  might  have  been  less  surprised. 

"This  comes  of  John's  queer   will,"  she  moaned  at 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  77 

last.  "You  are  going  to  support  that  fellow?  It's 
disgraceful.  You  had  better  marry  him,  that  wouldn't 
be  any  worse." 

"  Perhaps  he  wouldn't  marry  me.  At  any  rate  there 
will  be  no  chance  of  that  now"  she  explained  soothingly. 
"  Please  don't  let  us  make  ourselves  uncomfortable  over 
it.  If  I  happen  to  have  a  large  income,  why  shouldn't 
I  give  it  away  as  I  like  ?  You  wouldn't  have  said  any 
thing  if  I  had  given  it  here  and  there  to  washerwomen 
or  hospitals." 

The  subject  occupied  Mrs.  Anthon's  mind  until  it  was 
banished  by  the  irritation  of  the  Italian  customhouse. 
When  she  got  back  to  it,  the  next  day,  she  comforted 
herself  with  the  reflection  that,  God  willing,  this  un 
manageable  daughter  should  be  married  before  Erard 
reappeared  on  her  horizon. 

The  six  nomadic  months  that  followed  were  a  queer 
jumble  of  hotels  and  people  and  "points  of  interest." 
Miss  Anthon  said  to  herself  during  the  three  months  of 
vagrancy  in  Italy :  '  Patience,  now !  Some  day  a  different 
I  will  return  to  understand  and  possess.' 

In  the  same  manner  of  passive  sufferance  she  endured 
for  another  three  months  the  little  vaudeville  of  the 
various  spas,  which  was  played  over  and  over  each  day 
with  a  sameness  that  rasped  the  nerves.  She  grew 
accustomed  to  the  trim  gardens  with  the  glaring  contrast 
between  hot  gravel  and  metallic  green  lawn,  the  stereo 
typed  idle  men  and  overfed  women,  the  endless  tinkle 
of  hotel  bands,  and  the  hours  spent  with  her  maid  con- 


78  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

triving  how  to  make  the  most  of  her  tall,  individual 
self. 

The  sultry  weeks  as  they  wore  on  gradually  sapped 
her  energy,  even  her  desire  to  rebel.  The  reading 
suggested  by  Erard,  which  she  had  attacked  at  first  with 
the  fervour  of  a  novice,  seemed  in  the  air  and  useless. 
Letters  from  Erard  filled  with  details  of  his  studies  in 
Spain  barely  aroused  her.  She  envied  him  the  career, 
and  was  proud  to  have  him  deal  with  her  as  he  would 
with  a  man,  lecturing  her  on  his  hobbies,  asking  her 
help  in  verifying  facts  at  Eome,  or  in  judging  delicate 
questions.  "It  is  very  hot,"  he  wrote  once  casually, 
"but  I  manage  to  work  early  mornings  and  nights  and 
lose  little.  Six  weeks  more  will  take  me  back  to  Paris." 
Then  a  month  passed  without  letters,  and,  when  he 
wrote  next  he  mentioned  briefly,  "I  have  been  ill,  but 
I  have  my  work  nearly  finished,  and  some  sketches  that 
aren't  bad.  Will  you  be  in  Paris  to  see  them  next 
winter  ?  " 

She  carried  on  another  correspondence,  about  her 
"  business  "  as  she  was  fond  of  calling  her  new  invest 
ments.  Wilbur  "kept  her  posted"  almost  daily  of  the 
doings  of  the  Water-Hoister  and  Improvement  Co. 
Whole  broadsides  of  newspapers  came,  filled  with  bom 
bastic  accounts  of  "the  future  of  the  arid  lands."  It 
seemed  that  Wilbur's  invention  could  be  turned  to  a 
number  of  purposes.  "Through  its  instrumentality," 
solemnly  concluded  one  Kansas  City  paragraphist,  "  we 
are  about  to  open  up  an  era  in  this  country  hitherto 
undreamed  of,  an  era  when  the  desolate  plains  of  the 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  79 

mighty  Kockies  shall  flow  with  milk  and  honey,  and  the 
seat  of  the  national  capital  shall  be  moved  westward  to 
the  centre  of  a  new  civilization."  The  newspapers  gave 
minute  accounts  of  Wilbur's  life  from  his  earliest  child 
hood,  with  accompanying  photographs  of  him  at  every 
stage  of  development.  He  was  pictured  —  in  the  Omaha 
Hawk  —  as  a  young  man,  musing  profoundly  on  a  deso 
late  field,  a  black  line  in  the  far  distance  indicating  water, 
and  in  one  corner  a  small  cut  of  the  Hoister.  Wilbur 
sent  everything  that  appeared  (marked  with  a  broad 
blue  pencil)  to  his  "silent  partner"  as  he  called  Miss 
Anthon.  A  "  ten  cent  magazine  "  with  a  vast  circula 
tion  published  a  profusely  illustrated  article  on  "The 
New  American  Inventor,"  with  autobiographical  notes 
at  the  head,  containing  information  on  Wilbur's  personal 
habits,  his  hour  of  rising,  the  number  of  cups  of  coffee 
he  indulged  in,  his  temperance  principles,  etc.,  etc. 

All  this  fuss  and  gossip  seemed  to  amuse  Wilbur,  so 
far  as  he  paid  attention  to  it,  yet  he  realized  its  serious 
side.  Stock  in  the  company  continued  to  rise.  Subsidi 
ary  companies  for  placer-mining  in  canons  and  for  fruit- 
raising  on  the  reclaimed  lands  were  being  formed.  Wil 
bur  had  already  embarked  on  new  schemes.  In  spite  of 
his  belief  in  the  divine  service  of  the  Hoister,  he  was 
never  imposed  on  by  noise.  At  the  very  time  when  all  was 
"  booming  merrily,"  he  took  part  in  a  syndicate  formed 
to  buy  forest  lands  in  Alaska,  and  soberly  recommended 
his  partner  to  "join  in  the  deal."  He  was  about  to 
make  a  short  expedition  to  examine  the  ground  (and 
also  to  look  into  some  mines  near  Juneau),  and  if  she 


80  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

cabled  him  at  once,  he  would  sell  part  of  her  stock  in 
the  Hoister  and  place  the  proceeds  in  his  new  schemes. 
He  had  the  prices  of  the  various  stocks  which  she 
owned,  cabled  her  at  the  close  of  each  week,  and  it 
added  zest  to  the  Sunday  morning  coffee  to  receive  a 
little  blue  despatch,  to  know  each  week  that  she  was 
richer  than  the  week  before. 

Money  gives  power  and  freedom,  she  told  herself  again 
and  again.  It  had  freed  Wilbur.  Instead  of  spending 
his  days  as  a  small  lawyer  or  clerk,  he  was  striding  on, 
growing  each  month  in  shrewdness,  in  experience,  in 
grasp.  Money  had  freed  Erard,  assured  him  the  price 
less  leisure  for  tranquil,  unharassed  work.  Would  it 
free  her  ?  enrich  her  ?  cut  through  circumstances  so  that 
the  restless,  savage  beast  in  her  could  grow  and  possess 
and  be  satisfied?  Not  yet,  she  reflected  bitterly,  and 
again  the  word  must  be  patience. 


CHAPTER  X 

OCTOBER  found  the  Anthons  in  Paris  at  a  new  Ameri 
canized  hotel  just  off  the  Avenue  de  1'Opera.  Mrs. 
Anthon  talked  of  London,  of  taking  a  house  for  the 
winter,  "  where  Walter  could  be  at  home."  Miss  Anthon 
threatened  in  that  case  to  run  off  to  Egypt  with  Molly 
Parker  and  a  maid.  They  spent  the  brilliant  days  of 
the  early  fall  in  the  usual  round  of  shops  and  dress 
makers,  in  company  with  the  flight  of  tourists  returning 
from  their  summer  roosts  in  Europe,  who  were  tarrying 
for  feathers  before  swooping  back  to  America. 

Adela  Anthon's  curiosity  to  see  Erard  was  gratified 
finally  at  a  little  "gathering"  in  his  rooms.  She  had 
gone  with  Mrs.  Ormiston  Dexter  and  Molly  Parker  and 
had  met  Mrs.  Warmister  and  the  heavy  Mr.  Salters. 
They  had  praised  Erard's  sketches  until  the  sallow  little 
man  gave  the  word  to  halt.  While  the  others  were 
drinking  chocolate  and  listening  to  Salters,  Miss  Anthon 
went  back  to  the  bare  studio  with  Erard. 

His  deferential  attitude  had  piqued  and  irritated  her. 
Couldn't  he  forget  that  she  was  his  benefactress,  see  her 
merely  as  a  woman  and  an  attractive  one  ?  Even  when 
she  had  him  to  herself  his  talk  annoyed  her.  He  ex 
pressed  enthusiasm  over  her  friend. 

"  It  is  marvellous  how  that  Miss  Parker,  so  untrained 
and  unacquainted  with  even  the  a  b  c's  of  Art,  should 
G  81 


82  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

feel  delicately  and  get  hold  instinctively  of  the  right 
things  to  feel  about.  It  puts  us  all  to  shame !  She  is 
a  delicious  companion,  like  a  translucent  lake  in  the 
heart  of  the  mountains  which  reflects  every  passing 
image." 

Miss  Anthon  looked  at  him  ironically. 

"  Or,  in  other  words,  a  kind  of  jelly  that  shakes  when 
you  poke  it." 

"Well,  the  great  thing,"  Erard  retorted,  "is  to  have 
your  sensorium  delicate,  impressionable,  —  educate  it  to 
be  so,  if  you  aren't  like  that  young  girl.  How  I  should 
like  to  have  her  about  always,  to  test  impressions  for 
me!  I  could  put  her  before  a  picture  or  a  piece  of 
music,  and  —  " 

"Register  the  gush!"  Miss  Anthon  mocked.  "Tell 
me  something  more  about  Salters,"  she  wrenched  the 
conversation  away  from  her  friend.  "  He  talks  like  a 
bundle  of  extracts  from  all  the  books  you  ought  to  have 
read." 

"He's  a  stupid,  rich  young  man.  He  steals  all  his 
ideas  from  me  and  mangles  them  too." 

"  He  told  me  he  was  writing  a  book." 

"  Perhaps  so !  It  takes  only  paper  and  ink  to  make  a 
book." 

Miss  Anthon  laughed.  Erard  was  so  sure  in  his  judg 
ments  that  he  gave  a  companion  a  sense  of  fellow-supe 
riority. 

"  And  Mrs.  Warmister  ?  "      , 

Erard's  furtive  eyes  gleamed  maliciously.  "  She  wants 
badly  to  be  wicked,  but  some  remote,  inherited  scruple 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  83 

keeps  her  to  the  letter  of  virtue.  She  catches  a  few 
ideas  and  phrases  here  and  works  them,  off  over  there. 
She  would  do  anything  for  a  sensation,  for  reclame  !  " 

"  Do  you  treat  all  of  us  in  the  same  way  ?  "  Miss  Anthon 
questioned  awkwardly.  "  Use  us  and  then  sneer  at  us  ?  " 

"  Do  you  put  yourself  in  the  same  category  with  Sal- 
ters  and  Mrs.  Warmister  ?  " 

"  But  I  don't  remember  to  have  heard  you  say  anything 
civil  of  any  one  —  except,  possibly,  Uncle  Sebastian.  And 
you  always  mention  him  with  tolerant  compassion." 
She  was  wondering,  as  she  spoke,  if  this  were  an  inevi 
table  condition  of  the  Napoleonic  genius,  to  admit  no 
worth  except  one's  own. 

"You  surely  need  not  complain."  Erard  lowered  his 
voice  deferentially.  "  Haven't  I  treated  you  as  an  equal  ? 
I  have  had  it  in  mind  to  ask  you  to  read  the  manuscript 
of  my  new  book  on  the  late  Spanish  renaissance." 

"  Oh,  how  I  should  like  to ! "  she  exclaimed  enthusi 
astically,  once  more  loyal  to  her  admiration. 

"  And  there  are  some  manuscripts  here  in  Paris  in  the 
National  Library  that  you  could  work  over  for  me,  if 
Mrs.  Anthon  would  permit."  Her  face  lighted  respon- 
sively.  "  You  see,  my  dear  Miss  Anthon,  that  you  can 
be  of  more  service  in  our  work  than  as  a  mere  source 
of  supplies." 

She  recognized  a  little  sadly  the  evident  tact  of  this 
stroke.  He  kept  clear  of  all  sentiment,  apparently  real 
izing  that  in  accepting  her  money  he  had  put  himself 
beyond  her  social  pale.  She  was  now  the  liberal  patron 
ess,  the  grande  dame,  with  whose  private  life  he  had 


84  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

nothing  to  do.  That  was,  of  course,  the  right  attitude 
for  him  to  take,  yet  it  irritated  her.  She  broke  into 
personalities  again. 

"  What  is  the  good  of  my  doing  all  this,  if  I  am  to  be 
hawked  about  Europe  for  a  few  months  more  and  then 
carried  back  to  America  disgraced,  shopworn,  because  I 
haven't  been  a  large  bait  for  the  European  market !  It 
is  all  scraps,  everything  I  do,  and  I  am  tired  of  it !  A 
woman's  life  is  like  a  garment  pinned  together  —  there 
is  no  whole  piece  in  it." 

"  There  is  always  marriage  of  one  sort  or  another." 

Miss  Anthon  looked  at  him  contemptuously.  Why 
didn't  he  make  love  to  her,  as  he  probably  did  to  Miss 
Parker,  to  Mrs.  Warmister  ?  Was  she  too  conventional  ? 
What  ought  she  to  do  ?  Go  to  his  studio  accompanied 
only  by  a  maid  as  this  woman  did,  make  herself  nude  of 
all  proprieties,  smoke  and  drink  with  him,  and  discuss 
the  physiological  aspects  of  passion  and  art  ?  And  yet 
if  he  should  advance  that  way,  she  would  snub  him, 
taking  pleasure  in  showing  him  that  however  much  he 
might  interest  her,  she  despised  his  personal  habits. 

She  rose  abruptly  and  walked  back  to  the  salon  where 
Salters  was  lecturing  Mrs.  Warmister  and  Miss  Parker 
on  some  Japanese  water-colours.  Mrs.  Warmister  glanced 
up  as  they  entered,  measuring  Miss  Anthon  swiftly  with 
a  disagreeable  smile  on  her  lips. 

Miss  Anthon,  in  chance  intervals  of  leisure,  accom 
plished  some  of  the  work  on  manuscripts  that  Erard  had 
suggested.  This  occupation  served  as  an  excuse  to  bring 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  85 

them  together,  and,  in  order  to  escape  from  Mrs.  Anthon, 
they  took  long  walks  in  parts  of  Paris  she  had  not  known 
before.  Paris  this  autumn  was  to  her  altogether  a  new 
city,  a  strange,  complex  being  with  a  human  heart  in 
rebellion  with  fate  and  law.  It  seemed  to  say,  '  We  will 
to  be  irresponsible,  0  God !  We  know  not  the  morrow, 
your  morrow,  and  we  care  not  for  it.  Thou,  God,  hast 
given  us  a  few  poor  nerves,  some  dying  passions,  and 
many  evil  fancies.  With  these  we  will  play  out  your 
little  game  of  dreams  in  our  own  manner,  thus  using 
up  our  vilely  inadequate  bodies.' 

They  roamed  through  the  black  alleys  of  Montmartre : 
she  had  the  rebellion  of  the  socialist.  Beyond  the  In- 
valides  lay  the  domain  of  artificial  peace,  of  nuns  and 
monks:  she  would  settle  the  personal  confusion  of  life 
by  a  perpetual,  fixed  idea.  Nearer  the  river  the  old 
cathedral  raised  its  towers,  out  of  a  past,  lusty  age  into 
the  trivial  present.  The  little  insects  who  manufactured 
petty  art  for  this  present  world  swarmed  near  by:  she 
would  join  them  and  play  at  making  an  Apollo  come 
forth  from  a  cafi-chantant. 

"No,  no,"  she  proclaimed  to  herself,  "not  marriage, 
but  absorption  in  some  effort.  That  will  give  freedom !  " 

Then  she  remembered  Erard's  remark,  "There  is  no 
freedom,  except  the  freedom  to  feel:  the  nerves  must 
be  watched,  too,  lest  they  fail." 

And  she  had  a  sudden  desire  to  abjure  her  master. 


CHAPTER  XI 

ON  her  return  from  one  of  these  walks  with  Erard, 
Miss  Anthon  found  at  the  hotel  a  large  card,  with  the 
name  John  Foster  Wilbur  scrawled  in  an  untidy  hand. 
He  had  left  word  that  he  should  return  after  dinner. 
She  was  surprised  at  his  arrival.  Had  the  Hoister  Com 
pany  "  gone  up,"  and  had  he  come  to  break  the  news  to 
her?  Only  this  morning  she  had  received  the  weekly 
bulletin  of  prosperity.  Whatever  brought  him,  she  felt 
a  thrill  of  unexpected  pleasure  in  the  thought  of  seeing 
him  once  more,  and  of  listening  to  his  convincing  tale  of 
life.  He  would  be  a  relief,  a  refreshing  vision  of  the 
concrete  commonplace. 

She  dressed  with  unusual  precision  and  care,  —  in 
a  queer  anxiety  to  make  an  impression  on  his  inexpe 
rienced  eyes.  When  he  arrived  punctually  at  eight,  he 
gave  her  another  surprise,  for  he  appeared  ten  years 
older  than  when  he  was  lounging  about  Paris  a  year 
ago.  He  was  better  dressed,  though  he  had  come  in 
his  travelling  suit,  as  if  in  a  hurry,  on  some  business 
that  did  not  permit  forms.  His  square,  brown  face 
with  its  heavy  nose  wore  an  indomitable,  convinced 
expression.  Even  his  thick  arm  seemed  to  grip  a 
possession  when  he  shook  her  hand. 

"How  are  you?     Tired  of   Europe  yet?"     He  drew 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  87 

up  a  chair  and  sat  down  ungracefully,  bending  forward, 
his  powerful  hands  bedded  on  his  knees. 

"Your  card  was  a  genuine  surprise,"  she  laughed 
back.  "I  had  heard  from  you  from  Chicago  only  this 
morning." 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  replied  hastily.  "I  found  I  could 
squeeze  out  three  weeks,  a  steamer  sailed  just  so  I 
could  catch  it,  —  the  St.  Paul,  a  fine  boat,  —  and  I 
packed  my  grip  and  came  over." 

This  laconic  account  of  his  journey  exhilarated  her. 
She  laughed  again. 

"  Is  there  anything  wrong  with  the  company  ?  " 

"  No !  I  guess  not.  I  shouldn't  be  here  if  there  was  ! 
Not  that  all  your  eggs  or  mine  are  in  that  basket  now. 
We  are  settling  down  to  a  steady  rush  of  business.  You 
got  all  the  papers  and  my  letters.  That  blow  in  the 
papers  was  Jim  Center's  work.  I  got  him  a  good  place 
on  the  Chicago  Thunderer,  and  he's  done  smart  work  for 
us.  He's  coming  over  here,  by  the  way.  He  wants  to 
go  in  for  literature,  the  drama  specially,  and  he's 
comfortably  off  now.  No,  things  are  all  right  over 
there." 

He  waited,  as  if  blanks  in  the  conversation  might  be 
as  expressive  as  words.  But  Miss  Anthon  did  not  help 
him. 

"  You  haven't  forgotten  our  last  talk  in  Paris  ?  "  he 
began  afresh,  twisting  awkwardly  to  the  side  of  his 
chair.  "I  said  when  stock  reached  one  twenty-five,  I 
should  be  back  here  with  a  new  proposition.  The  first 
of  the  month  the  figure  for  the  main  company  was 


88  THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM 

one  twenty-six  five  eighths,  —  that's  the  day  I  started. 
I  got  a  cable  this  morning,  and  it  hasn't  dropped  since." 

The  woman  felt  her  breath  taken  away,  as  if  a  hurri- 
/  cane  had  come  booming  into  the  room  full  of  dead  air, 
'•  in  which  she  was  living.  Her  pulses  began  to  beat 
j  rapidly. 

"  That  must  be  very  gratifying  to  you."  Her  words 
sounded  to  her  needlessly  flippant.  They  were  like  a 
blow  in  the  face  to  a  man  who  is  taking  a  fence  at  one 
leap. 

"Well,  rather,"  Wilbur  gathered  himself  together 
undaunted.  "I  am  a  pretty  rich  man  for  a  fellow 
who  got  his  chance  hardly  a  year  ago.  I  guess  I  can 
get  what  money  I  want  before  I  die.  I  bought  up 
nearly  half  a  township,  up  where  father  lives,  and  gave 
it  to  him  just  before  I  started,  and  built  him  a  nice 
brick  house  with  a  French  roof,  turned  the  old  house 
into  a  barn.  That  was  gratifying  to  me.  But  what  I 
came  four  thousand  miles  to  talk  about,  wasn't  exactly 
this.  You  don't  remember,  perhaps,  that  I  said  I 
should  have  another  scheme  to  propose  when  you  saw 
me  next.  It's  just  this.  Will  you,  will  you,"  —  his 
voice  broke  a  moment.  Then  as  if  ashamed  of  his 
weakness  he  cleared  his  throat  and  said  distinctly, — 
"Will  you  marry  me?" 

She  had  known  that  his  proposal  was  coming  for  the 
past  three  minutes.  It  occurred  to  her  that  she  might 
have  headed  it  off,  but  instead  she  had  sat  nervelessly, 
almost  anxious  to  have  the  shock.  Now  that  it  had 
come,  she  was  at  a  loss  how  to  take  it. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  89 

"  How  can  I  tell  ?  I  haven't  thought  of  it,"  she  found 
herself  stammering. 

"  I  know,"  he  replied  disappointedly.  "  It  didn't 
seem  quite  right  to  mention  it  in  my  letters.  But  you 
see  we  have  worked  along  shoulder  to  shoulder,  like  real 
partners,  through  the  first  big  crisis  I  have  had.  And  I 
have  learned  to  know  you  so  well  and  trust  you,  if  you 
haven't  me.  I  feel  that  marriage  would  be  a  closer  part 
nership,  longer  you  know,  and  more  intimate.  Of  course 
you  are  bigger  as  a  woman  than  I  am  as  a  man,  have 
broader  interests,  but  I  must  get  those  too,  and  I  can 
—  with  you.  What  I  want  first  and  most  is  you.  We 
two  can  work  together." 

Then  he  stopped  with  unexpected  tact,  just  as  his  at 
titude  showed  unexpected  humility.  He  urged  no  more, 
but  sat  quietly  while  she  thought  with  desperate  swift 
ness.  Of  course  her  feeling  about  it  ought  to  be  sponta 
neous  and  instinctive,  —  novelists  and  poets  made  it  out 
so  in  every  case.  She  should  be  able  to  say  yes  or  no  on 
the  spot.  But  the  experience  did  not  come  to  her  in 
quite  that  way :  she  felt  enormously  drawn  to  the  man, 
and  more  than  ever  from  the  form  in  which  he  had  put 
his  offer.  A  partnership,  stronger  and  deeper  in  mean 
ing  than  mere  business,  yet  two-headed  and  two-work 
ing,  with  absolute  trust  and  confidence  on  either  side  — 
wasn't  that  rational  and  ideal?  And  that  would  mean 
freedom.  His  every  act  indicated  freedom,  a  large, 
hopeful  way  of  life,  full  of  plans  and  the  realizing  o^  plans 
by  constant,  swift,  clever  calculation.  How  much  more 
vital  that,  than  the  dead  groping  into  one's  interior  self 


90  THE  GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

after  expression  or  some  faint  representation  of  that 
inadequate  self,  —  called  art !  It  is  better  to  live  than  to 
paint,  some  one  said ;  it  is  best  to  make  life  your  art. 

Freedom!  The  very  word  had  an  impelling  charm; 
freedom  from  this  endless  division  of  herself  that  pres 
ent  conditions  imposed.  How  much  Mrs.  Anthon  and 
Aix-les-Bains  had  to  do  with  her  decision  it  would  be 
hard  to  say.  For  at  last,  as  the  still  moments  escaped 
while  she  faltered  there  before  the  intent  man,  all  logi 
cal  thoughts  fled,  and  in  their  place  came  confused  long 
ings  and  impulses. 

Wilbur  rose  and  walked  slowly  over  to  the  fireplace. 

"  If  I  should  give  you  more  time  —  "  he  began. 

u  No,  no,"  she  interrupted  him,  anxious  to  take  herself 
at  full  tide,  and  feeling  for  him  that  delay  would  be 
a  pain  she  need  not  inflict.  "I  think  we  know  one 
another."  She  went  up  to  him  and  frankly  put  her 
hand  in  his.  "  A  partnership  for  life,"  she  said  slowly. 

His  eyes  had  a  suspicion  of  mistiness  in  them  as  he 
answered  earnestly :  "  God  help  me  to  make  it  prosperous 
for  you." 

Her  face  flushed.     "  And  for  you." 

Then  as  he  kissed  her,  drawing  her  head  gently  to  him, 
a  new  train  of  feelings  rushed  over  her ;  an  intimation 
of  other  sides  to  this  affair ;  of  personal,  emotional  con 
siderations  she  had  never  suspected.  She  looked  at 
him  wonderingly,  amazed,  uncertain.  He  kissed  her 
again. 

Mrs.  Anthon  appeared  just  then,  quite  breathless  over 
the  excitement  of  Wilbur's  sudden  arrival. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  91 

"  Mother,"  Miss  Anthon  said  quickly,  "  I  have  promised 
to  marry  Mr.  Wilbur." 

"Well,"  Mrs.  Anthon  gasped,  "well,  Ady,  you  might 
have  done  worse,  and  you  have  been  so  curious  of  late 
in  your  goings  on  I  didn't  know  just  how  you  would  end." 
With  that  she  relapsed  into  sentiment  and  tears  over 
losing  her  only  daughter. 

"But,  mamma,"  Miss  Anthon  interposed  maliciously, 
"this  is  what  you  have  been  planning  for  months, 
plotting  with  Uncle  Seb  and  Mrs.  Dexter.  You  ought 
to  have  known  your  own  mind." 

"Whatever  I  have  done,  Adela,"  Mrs.  Anthon  sum 
moned  her  dignity,  "  I  have  done  it  always  for  your  true 
happiness;  some  day  when  you  have  a  daughter,  you 
will  understand  how  many  sacrifices  a  mother  makes  ! " 

Wilbur  smiled  emphatically ;  that  sentiment  was  quite 
proper. 


CHAPTEE  XII 

IN  spite  of  the  preoccupations  incident  to  the  season, 
Miss  Anthon  found  an  opportunity  of  seeing  Erard. 
She  preferred  to  tell  him  of  her  new  step  rather  than 
write  a  letter;  for  her  curiosity  about  his  opinion  on 
the  subject  was  quite  keen.  They  were  examining  an 
Ingres  at  the  Louvre  and  Erard  was  engaged  in  con 
vincing  her  of  its  regular*merits.  In  her  present  mood 
the  smooth,  polished  surface  of  the  nude  figures  struck 
her  as  vacant  and  useless.  Imaginatively  she  began  to 
see  that  all  art  was  of  the  same  nature  as  this  Ingres, 
—  a  little  dead. 

"I  have  taken  your  advice,"  she  remarked  casually, 
"  and  chosen  the  active  life.  I  am  to  marry  —  Mr. 
Wilbur." 

"  Ah  ! "  Erard  exclaimed,  recovering  his  balance  neatly. 
"  You  will  be  the  Chicago  matron  after  all.  And  what 
shall  I  do  for  an  assistant  ?  I  had  jnst  taught  you  a 
few  things:  you  were  beginning  to  be  useful!" 

"That  was  mere  play,  you  know  well  enough.  I 
could  never  be  more  than  an  intelligent  clerk."  She 
was  disappointed  that  his  manner  was  so  completely 
impersonal.  He  took  it  altogether  as  too  trivial  a  matter, 
too  much  of  course.  After  a  few  minutes  he  returned 
to  the  subject. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  93 

"  May  I  paint  you,  Miss  Anthon,  as  La  grande  dame  de 
Chicago,  U.  /S.  A.  I  should  like  to  make  you  a  wedding 
gift,  and  perhaps,  if  Mr.  Wilbur  doesn't  object,  it  might 
be  in  this  form." 

"  You  may  ask  him,"  she  replied  shortly,  silly  pique 
rising  at  his  insolent  calmness.  She  evidently  meant 
very  little  to  him,  personally.  He  was  quite  right ;  but 
to  please  her,  he  ought  to  be  wrong.  Even  his  interest 
in  lecturing  to  her  about  pictures  seemed  to  flag;  making 
some  conventional  excuse  he  cut  short  the  visit  to  the 
Louvre.  It  was  as  if  he  regarded  time  spent  on  her 
now  as  wasted  —  it  would  lead  to  nothing.  As  they 
parted  he  arranged  for  sittings,  and  then  remarked, — 

"You  will  be  very  happy  of  course,  after  you  have 
shaken  into  place  and  got  used  to  yourself.  The  com 
monplace  thing  is  the  best  for  most  of  us." 

"Yes,  I  shall  be  very  happy,"  she  replied  shortly, 
turning  away. 

With  scarcely  less  curiosity  she  waited  for  her  uncle's 
comment  on  the  news.  It  came  promptly,  and  if  brief 
and  rather  conventional,  was  kindly.  One  sentence  stung 
her.  "  So  you  have  given  up  exploding  and  decided  to  be 
a  good  girl." 

She  flung  the  note  down  irritably.  "I  believe  he 
would  have  liked  it  better  if  I  had  told  him  I  was  going 
to  marry  Erard."  She  felt  that  the  old  man  was  bored, 
if  not  disappointed,  in  finding  that  all  her  rebellion  had 
come  to  this  decorous  end. 

Walter  Anthon  wrote  their  mother  at  great  length. 
The  substance  of  his  remarks  was  the  relief  which  they 


94  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

must  all  feel  that  Adela,  if  she  had  not  done  the  brilliant 
thing,  at  least  had  ended  safely  and  properly ;  if  it  were 
safe,  that  is  if  Wilbur  were  really  sound  financially,  and 
that,  he  supposed  his  mother  and  uncle  had  taken  pains 
to  find  out.  Beyond  that  he  was  sorry  that  her  life  was 
inevitably  to  be  so  divided  from  his.  "We  shall  be 
country  cousins,"  she  explained  to  Wilbur,  "and  he 
hopes  that  we  shall  not  put  him  in  the  awkward  posi 
tion  of  ever  visiting  London." 

Wilbur  left  for  Chicago,  after  a  week  in  Paris.  The 
portrait  came  off  while  the  Anthons  were  waiting  for 
the  trousseau.  The  sittings  were  full  of  ennui  to  the 
subject,  for  Mrs.  Anthon  insisted  defiantly  on  attending 
every  one.  She  persisted  in  regarding  this  portrait  as 
an  instalment  of  Erard's  debt  to  the  Anthons,  although 
her  daughter  explained  elaborately  that  it  was  an  act  of 
mere  friendship.  While  he  painted,  Erard  talked  mer 
rily  of  the  coming  life  in  Chicago,  advising  and  exhort 
ing  her  on  matters  of  taste. 

"  Of  course  you  will  build  a  house  —  a  palace  I  should 
say.  Do  induce  Mr.  Wilbur  to  have  a  good  architect,  if 
there  is  one  to  be  had  over  there.  Bad  architecture  has 
such  a  subtle  influence  for  deterioration  on  the  person, 
and  bad  architecture  has  been  the  order  of  the  day 
pretty  generally  in  your  new  home.  Tell  Mr.  Wilbur 
that  he  will  distinguish  himself  in  the  best  way  by 
putting  up  a  house  that  is  more  than  ' elegant/  and  'big,' 
and  <  costly.' " 

"We  may  live  in  a  hotel  for  a  time,"  Miss  Anthon 
answered  shortly. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM  95 

Erard  lifted  his  eyebrows  deprecatingly  and  dropped 
his  glass.  "No,  you  mustn't  live  in  a  hotel  —  an 
American  hotel  above  all!  —  it  is  so  degenerating.  1 
haven't  painted  the  portrait  with  that  view." 

"Why?  Would  you  have  made  me  into  a  kind  of 
barmaid,  or  grass-widow  ?  " 

"I  should  have  sprinkled  in  diamonds  a  little  more 
freely." 

Another  time  he  continued  the  same  vein.  "  Of  course 
you  will  have  the  furnishing  and  all  that  on  your  hands. 
Do  have  Lemerre  design  the  chairs.  I  will  write  him 
myself,  if  you  want  me  to.  He  is  rather  dear:  you 
couldn't  have  him  do  the  whole  place  at  once  —  that 
would  take  a  duke's  fortune.  But  get  a  little  at  a  time, 
one  or  two  chairs  and  a  table.  You  can't  think  how 
much  good  you  will  do  your  neighbours,  when  they  come 
to  call  or  to  dine.  And  the  stuffs,  —  there  is  only  one 
place  for  good  colours  —  Maron.  You  ought  to  have  some 
artist  design  the  whole  for  you  at  the  same  time.  When 
you  come  to  pictures,  that  will  be  so  difficult.  Do,  dear 
Miss  Anthon,  go  slow.  Don't  let  Mr.  Wilbur  buy  old 
masters,  because  there  aren't  any,  or  'way  beyond  a  mil 
lionaire's  purse.  You  could  start  in  with  some  good  etch 
ings  and  old  engravings.  Then  I  could  get  you  a  Degas 
for  a  thousand  pounds,  an  early  Degas.  It  is  a  great 
find,  I  assure  you,  and  one  Degas  would  go  a  great  way 
towards  furnishing  your  house." 

"  One  of  those  women  in  a  bath-tub ! "  Mrs.  Anthon 
ejaculated. 

"Whatever  you  do,  my  dear  Miss  Anthon,"  Erard  con- 


96  THE   GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM 

tinned  tranquilly,  "go  slow.  Get  one  good  thing  at  a 
time,  and  make  your  house  a  shrine  for  that." 

Miss  Anthon  felt  as  if  she  were  being  tutored  for  some 
missionary  service.  About  to  go  forth  to  the  wilderness, 
she  was  receiving  the  last  advice  of  the  father  superior. 

"  Of  course  you  will  be  coming  over  here  frequently 
to  get  your  ideas  straightened  out,  and  to  fortify  your 
tastes.  Six  months  there  will  make  you  provincial." 

Occasionally  this  note  of  condescension  stung  her. 
"Of  course  we  shall  travel  a  great  deal."  Her  con 
ception  of  the  future  was  large.  She  and  her  husband 
were  to  take  their  life,  which  happened  to  be  for  the 
immediate  present  in  a  western  metropolis,  and  mould 
it  in  an  original  and  free  pattern.  The  years  of  great 
things  were  just  ahead. 

She  had  refused  to  look  at  the  picture  until  it  should 
be  in  nearly  final  shape.  One  afternoon,  towards  the 
end  of  their  stay  in  Paris,  she  took  Molly  Parker  with 
her  for  a  first  view.  Erard  was  in,  when  they  arrived, 
standing  idly  before  the  picture,  which  he  had  brought 
out.  into  the  centre  of  the  empty  studio.  He  was  smoking 
a  cigarette,  in  a  mincing  manner,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 
The  two  women  sank  into  the  chairs  he  placed  for  them. 
•  Erard  had  insisted  upon  painting  her  in  a  white  satin 
evening  dress,  half  reclining  upon  a  crimson  divan  as 
though  tired  by  the  fatigue  of  receiving.  It  was  un 
doubtedly  a  clever  piece  .of  work,  painted  knowingly  and 
for  the  world  successfully.  He  had  made  the  most  of  her 
tall  form,  her  ability  to  carry  clothes.  He  had  turned 
her  indefinably  from  a  girl  to  a  woman;  her  physique 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  97 

seemed  a  bit  more  robust  and  solid  than  actually  true; 
her  face,  a  trifle  full  and  less  mobile.  In  expression 
she  wore  a  half-smile,  looking  down  at  the  roses  which 
drooped  from  her  hot  hand.  Yet  it  was  not  the  ex 
pression  of  one  altogether  pleased  with  herself,  in  spite 
of  the  smile,  which  seemed  to  be  caused  by  some  pleasant 
flattery  that  still  hung  in  her  mind. 

After  the  first  long  look,  Miss  Anthon  glanced  re 
proachfully  at  Erard. 

"  You  haven't  painted  me." 

"Wait  five  years,"  he  emitted  shortly,  dangling  the 
cigarette  from  his  lips. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  have  your  prophecy." 

Erard  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  paint  what  /see." 

"  And  shall  I  be  like  that  ?  Dissatisfied  and  bored  and 
a  little  heavy  ?  " 

"You  will  know  some  facts,  then.  Now  you  are 
fooling." 

Miss  Anthon  would  have  liked,  impulsively,  to  seize 
a  brush  and  paint  out  the  face,  which  would  grow  to 
have  the  power  of  a  sneer  at  her  present  self.  But  she 
was  restrained  by  the  presence  of  Molly  Parker. 

"A  stunning  piece  of  work,"  Miss  Parker  remarked, 
eyeing  the  portrait  intently. 

"La  grande  dame  de  Chicago,  U.  S.  A."  Erard  assented 
softly. 

"But  I  shouldn't  hang  it  except  in  the  attic,"  Miss 
Parker  continued.  "Ask  Mr.  Wilbur  if  he  wants  it 
around." 


98  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FBEEDOM 

Erard  smiled  as  if  sure  on  that  point.  What  Chicago 
magnate  would  not  like  to  show  off  that  superb,  com 
manding  person  ?  "  Will  you  let  me  exhibit  it  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  Miss  Anthon  replied  coolly,  drawing  on 
her  gloves.  "  It  can  make  no  difference  to  me." 

But  it  had  made  a  difference  to  her  already. 

"  So  these  are  your  real  views  of  my  marriage ! "  she 
exclaimed,  as  Miss  Parker  wandered  off  to  the  old 
spinet. 

Erard's  amused  glance  said,  "Well,  yes !  if  you  want 
to  know." 

Her  former  ambitions  tantalized  her ;  this  cynical, 
absurd  little  man  tantalized  her.  Was  she  selling  her 
self  cheap  ?  Was  Erard  stronger  and  finer  than  she  ? 

"  Good-by."  She  turned  away  with  a  last  look  at  the 
picture.  They  shook  hands.  She  seemed  to  be  making 
her  farewell  to  a  few  mad  dreams. 

On  the  drive  back  she  maintained  a  moody  silence. 
The  past  month  since  her  engagement,  life  had  seemed 
free  and  simple  and  full  of  interests.  Her  equanimity 
had  comforted  her  and  assured  her  that  she  was  making 
no  mistake.  Now  the  horizon  contracted  again,  and  she 
wondered  whether  she  had  broken  the  traces  that  galled 
her,  or  only  shifted  them  for  a  time. 

"  Marriage  ought  not  to  be  such  a  mystery ! "  she 
exclaimed  at  last. 

"  You  ought  to  feel  sure  enough,"  Miss  Parker  replied 
encouragingly.  "All  the  money  you  want  and  a  good 
fellow  whom  you  took  of  your  own  free  will." 

"There  is  no  reason  to  expect  mistakes,  Molly,  and 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  99 

almost  every  girl  feels  the  same  way,  I  suppose,  when 
she  is  engaged.  But  the  smashes  come,  all  the  same." 

Miss  Parker  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  really  love  him  !  You  always  look 
at  your  marriage  from  the  personal  point  of  view,  as  a 
kind  of  happy  solution  to  a  difficult  problem.  You 
don't  seem  to  see  him"  she  continued,  in  a  far-away 
tone.  "And  I  believe  something  always  tells  a  woman 
when  she  is  justified  in  taking  her  chances.  Of  course 
she  may  have  a  hard  time,  but  if  she  is  the  right  sort, 
and  that  something  comes  into  her  heart,  why !  all  the 
after  tragedies  don't  matter.  For  you  everything  seems 
serene,  and  yet  you  haven't  that  something,  I  feel.  You 
don't  really  love  him  now." 

"  How  dare  you  say  that ! "  Miss  Anthon  exclaimed 
harshly. 

Molly  Parker  looked  as  if  she  dared  say  anything. 
To  be  obliged  to  give  her  reasons  was  another  matter. 

"  Oh !  you  take  life,  marriage,  your  career  — :  i  broadly,' 
as  you  say,  like  a  thorough  course  in  self-development. 
Perhaps  you  will  carry  it  through  that  way.  But  if  I 
hadn't  that  something  in  my  heart  which  would  make  me 
go  barefoot  with  a  man  and  have  a  good  time,  I  would 
run  away.  If  I  were  married  to  a  man  without  that 
something,  I  should  stick  a  hat-pin  into  him,  or  make 
his  life  a  little  hell,  no  matter  how  good  he  was.  But 
you  may  be  different.  '  Love  with  you  may  be  an  affair 
of  growth.'"  Her  voice  dwelt  mockingly  on  this  last 
sentence.  Miss  Anthon  drew  herself  up  proudly,  with 
the  air  of  having  been  guilty  of  familiarities  with  an 


100  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

inferior.     They  drove  on  some  minutes  in  silence.    Then 
Miss  Anthon  said  sombrely. 

"  There  is  this  life,  and  I  will  make  the  most  of  it." 
They  were  crossing  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  in  the  early 
lamp-light  of  a  November  evening.  The  splendid  lines  of 
light  in  every  direction  flashed  on  the  slippery,  damp  pave 
ments;  carriages  were  dashing  from  the  Rue  de  Rivoli 
across  the  Place  into  the  broad  avenue  leading  to  the 
dominant  arch.  The  individual  hum  of  Paris,  that  Paris 
she  had  so  much  loved  and  wondered  at,  the  Paris  that 
had  aroused  slumbering  instincts  and  had  mocked  at  her, 
surged  through  her  brain:  —  yes,  there  was  much  to 
grasp  in  this  life ! 

"And  there  are  other  things,"  Miss  Parker  murmured, 
"which  we  cannot  manage  always.  We  can  only  dream 
and  hope,  for  after  all  life  may  be  too  great  for  you  and 
break  you." 


PART  II 
CHAPTER  I 

CHICAGO  is  an  instance  of  a  successful,  contemptuous 
disregard  of  nature  by  man.  Other  great  cities  have 
been  called  gradually  into  existence  about  some  fine  op 
portunity  suggested  by  nature,  at  the  junction  of  fertile 
valleys,  or  on  a  loving  bend  of  a  broad  river,  or  in  the 
inner  recesses  of  a  sea-harbour,  where  nature  has  pointed 
out,  as  it  were,  a  spot  favourable  for  life  and  growth.  In 
the  case  of  Chicago,  man  has  decided  to  make  for  himself 
a  city  for  his  artificial  necessities  in  defiance  of  every  in 
difference  displayed  by  nature.  Along  the  level  floor  of 
sand  and  gravel  cast  up  by  the  mighty  lake,  the  city  has 
swelled  and  pushed,  like  a  pool  of  quicksilver,  which, 
poured  out  on  a  flat  plate,  is  ever  undulating  and  alter 
ing  its  borders,  as  it  eats  its  way  further  into  the  desert 
expanse.  Railroad  lines,  like  strands  of  a  huge  spider's 
web,  run  across  the  continent  in  all  directions,  wilfully, 
strenuously  centring  in  this  waste  spot,  the  swampy  cor 
ner  of  a  great  lake.  Through  these  manifold  strands,  the 
city  touches  the  world. 

The  soil,  where  it  emerges  from  the  swamp,  will  grow  . 
nothing  but  spindling,  scrubby  trees  and  weeds.  Man  \ 
must  make  all,  —  must  prepare  special  foundations  for 

101 


102  THE 'GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

his  great  buildings;  must  superimpose  good  streets  of 
asphalt  or  brick  upon  the  treacherous  bottom;  must 
make  green  things  live,  with  the  cares  of  a  hot-house, 
to  delight  his  eye,  for  left  to  herself  nature  merely  hides 
the  plain  with  a  kind  of  brown  scab.  Upon  this  desolate 
waste  first  necessities  have  been  provided  for  by  miles 
and  miles  of  nondescript  buildings,  enclosures  for  busi 
ness  and  the  requirements  of  naked  existence ;  and  then, 
these  last  years,  time  has  come  for  ornamentation  and 
individual  care,  —  for  the  private  house,  the  boulevard, 
the  park.  This  last  development,  however,  is  sporadic; 
hence  as  a  whole  the  first  impression  Chicago  gives  is 
that  of  a  huge  garment  made  of  heterogeneous  materials, 
— here  a  square  of  faded  cotton,  next  door  a  patch  let  in 
of  fine  silk.  For  the  order  of  life  is  first  existence,  then 
comfort,  then  luxury,  and  last — when  the  human  mind 
begins  to  suffer  ennui  —  a  little  beauty  for  a  plaything. 

The  complex  quality  of  this  wonderful  city  is  best 
seen  as  the  stranger  shoots  across  the  prairie  in  a 
railroad  train,  penetrating  layer  after  layer  of  the 
folds.  First  in  the  great  distance,  rises  a  pall  of  dull 
smoke,  shifting  lethargically  up  and  down  the  scene,  as 
the  lake  wind  or  the  land  wind  pulls  and  tugs  at  its 
mephitic  dead  body.  Then  the  railroad,  describing 
irregular  curves,  crosses  lines  of  streets  built  up  on 
embankments  with  oily  ditches  below,  and  intersected 
by  cross  streets  that  disappear  into  the  marsh.  In  the 
chinks  of  the  broken,  ambitious  plank  walks  grow  brown 
weeds  and  grass.  At  regular  intervals  lamp  posts  set 
high  up  on  mounds  indicate  where  the  city  will  place 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  103 

some  day  a  solid  level  for  actual,  busy  life.  Here  and 
there  rows  of  frame  boxes,  or  cheaply  ornamented  cot 
tages  crop  up,  or  a  stone-front  apartment  building  stands 
stranded,  above  the  swamp,  its  foundation  stones  on  a 
level  with  the  lamp  posts  or  the  broken  plank  walk  that 
gives  access  to  its  desolate  self.  Sometimes  these  tenta 
tive  buildings  lie  closely  together,  and  there  are  stores 
and  saloons,  and  the  streets  are  penetrated  by  electric 
wires.  This  is  the  Chicago  of  the  future, — perhaps  of 
the  morrow,  whenever  the  advancing  lines  of  blocks  shall 
have  bounded  that  way. 

Then  come  the  solid  outworks  of  the  great  city,  which 
are  marked  roughly  by  the  parks  flanking  the  three  land 
ward  sides.  These  parks  are  a  noble  patronage  of  nat 
ure,  an  indulgence  to  the  carnal  appetites  of  men,  which 
are  given  to  green  things,  as  trees  and  flowering  bushes 
and  soft  sod.  They  are  great  slices  of  man's  territory 
handed  over  to  the  landscape  gardener  to  be  made  into 
nature  by  a  tour  de  force.  Here  begin  the  broad  boule 
vards  where  live  the  men  of  the  city  who  lead  the  toil 
and  fight  in  the  furnace,  and  have  emerged  to  build  great 
comfortable  new  houses  surrounded  by  broad  edgings  of 
cool-looking  grass.  If  one  has  succeeded  fairly,  there 
beyond,  under  the  pall  of  black  smoke,  one  comes  out 
here  to  rest  and  enjoy  and  possess. 

Still  there  is  left  the  city,  becoming  hotter  and  fiercer 
mile  by  mile.  Life  spins  there ;  man  there  is  handling 
existence  as  you  knead  bread  in  a  pan.  The  city  is 
made  of  man ;  that  is  the  last  word  to  say  of  it.  Brazen, 
unequal,  like  all  man's  works,  it  stands  a  stupendous 


104  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

piece  of  blasphemy  against  nature.  Once  within  its 
circle,  the  heart  must  forget  that  the  earth  is  beautiful. 
"  Go  to,"  man  boasts,  "  our  fathers  lived  in  the  fear  of 
nature ;  we  will  build  a  city  where  men  and  women  in 
their  passions  shall  be  the  beginning  and  end.  Man  is 
enough  for  man." 

And  out  lakeward  hangs  the  cool  wind,  ready  now  and 
then  to  rush  into  the  thousands  of  streets  and  avenues 
that  intersect  the  city  like  the  pipes  of  a  boiler,  to  clean 
out  the  stale  air  and  the  filth,  willing  thus  to  assist  man 
in  his  slipshod  management  of  his  home.  At  other  times 
it  is  busy  with  the  lake  —  that  marvellous  lake!  —  spread 
out  beyond  the  sandy  shores,  shifting,  changing,  gathering 
light  to  itself,  playing  out  the  panorama  of  nature  close 
at  hand  for  the  unheeding  benefit  of  this  creature,  man. 

To  John  Wilbur,  Chicago  was  like  a  congenial  Alpine 
air,  which  stimulated  his  appetites.  From  the  very  first 
the  strife  for  advancement  summoned  all  his  virility, 
and  the  sense  of  rapid  success  exhilarated  him.  His 
wife,  on  the  other  hand,  remembered  for  many  a  day 
the  sudden  depression  which  the  fierce  city  had  given 
her  spirits  that  first  March  morning  of  their  arrival. 
It  seemed  to  her  imaginative  mind  the  first  fact  she  had 
ever  known.  But  she  learned  to  accept  the  conditions 
passably,  and  to  do  without  many  sensibilities;  she 
learned  how  to  make  business  —  the  mechanics  of  life  — 
serve  for  all  interests  of  mind.  Nearly  two  years  passed 
thus  in  a  swift  leap  while  Mrs.  Wilbur  was  becoming  a 
"  worker,"  before  Molly  Parker  came  to  visit  her.  Mrs. 
Ormiston  Dexter  having  died  suddenly,  Molly  was  pre- 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  105 

paring  wonderingly  to  earn  her  bread,  and  for  such  vague 
purposes  Chicago  offered  a  good  field. 

The  first  morning  after  her  arrival  the  two  visited  the 
Wilburs'  new  house  that  was  going  up  some  miles  to 
the  south.  They  drove  out  by  the  arrow-like  Michigan 
Boulevard,  then  turned  back  and  forth,  skilfully  dodging 
bad  streets  where  pools  of  slime  lay  in  the  broken  wooden 
pavements,  crossing  the  whirring  cable-tracks,  until  they 
reached  a  broad  avenue.  Here  the  houses  were  sepa 
rated  by  patches  of  lawn  or  vacant  lots,  and  the  expan 
sive  boulevard  was  divided  in  two  by  little  artificial 
mounds  of  earth,  with  trees  and  shrubs,  in  which  wound 
gravelled  walks. 

"We  decided  to  build  'way  south,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  ex 
plained,  "  because  it  isn't  so  dreadfully  noisy  and  dusty 
out  here.  We  can  have  plenty  of  room,  and,  just  think ! 
there  are  two  or  three  fair-sized  trees  on  our  lot." 

Miss  Parker  was  eagerly  looking  here  and  there.  The 
morning  breeze  from  the  lake  shot  little  spots  of  bright 
colour  over  her  face. 

"  There ! "  Mrs.  Wilbur  pointed  with  the  whip  down 
the  misty  avenue.  "  You  can  just  see  it." 

"What?  That  enormous  white  building?"  Molly 
exclaimed.  Mrs.  Wilbur  touched  the  horse  with  her 
whip  nervously. 

"  John  felt  that  the  house  should  be  more  than  merely 
a  home  to  live  in:  it  is  to  be  a  good  solid  investment 
and  a  sort  of  advertisement  of  success.  It  helps  him 
as  a  young  capitalist  to  have  it  known  that  he  is  build 
ing  a  great  house.  Then  the  architect  got  us  in  for 


106  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

more  than  we  expected.  You  see  it  is  built  all  around 
with  stone,  very  solid,  and  gives  a  more  colossal  appear 
ance  than  its  size  really  justifies." 

Miss  Parker  looked  at  the  neighbouring  houses  that 
Mrs.  Wilbur  had  pointed  to  for  comparison.  Most  of 
them  were  only  faced  with  stone.  She  had  noticed,  also, 
that  in  one  case  where  a  house  was  going  up,  the  impos 
ing  front  consisted  merely  of  a  thin  veneer  of  stone 
placed  over  masonry. 

"  How  do  you  like  the  architecture  ? "  the  mistress 
asked  nervously. 

"  It  is  so  imposing,'7  faltered  Molly,  "  and  what  is  the 
house  in  the  rear  ?  " 

"Oh,  that's  the  stable.  We  had  to  finish  that  first, 
so  that  it  could  be  used  for  the  materials." 

"  It  looks  like  a  mansion  itself." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  led  the  way  into  the  new  "marble  pal 
ace,"  as  it  was  locally  described.  She  showed  her  friend 
about,  with  sudden  alternations  of  enthusiasm  and  list- 
lessness,  explaining  in  detail  the  suites  of  rooms,  the 
manifold  conveniences  suggested  by  the  architect.  Sud 
denly  she  exclaimed,  — 

"  You  have  had  enough  of  this !  I  am  tired  of  it  too. 
We  come  out  here  two  or  three  times  a  week  and  every 
Sunday.  I  will  drive  you  out  to  the  parks,  and  we  can 
have  a  good  talk." 

Miss  Parker  remarked  timidly,  when  they  were  once 
more  in  the  trap,  jogging  southwards  on  the  hard  boule 
vard,  "  You  must  be  so  awfully  rich ! " 

Her  friend  smiled.    "  Yes.    John  has  done  remarkably 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  107 

well,  and  my  money  helped  of  course.  But  the  house  is 
really  beyond  us.  That  is  the  temptation  out  here,  to 
discount  the  future,  or  at  least  to  live  up  to  the  present 
to  the  last  cent.  And  for  the  past  six  months  the  times 
have  been  so  bad."  She  looked  grave. 

"Don't  you  find  it  all  interesting  and  exciting,  now 
you  are  married,  —  planning,  and  all  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  ! "  The  married  woman  took  the  offered  lead 
eagerly.  "  It  has  been  such  a  full  time.  You  see,  I  know 
almost  all  John's  Business,  and  he  has  taken  me  with  him 
on  all  his  business  trips,  once  to  Alaska  even,  and  I  have 
felt  like  a  real  partner.  I  have  managed  some  affairs 
here  in  the  city  all  by  myself." 

She  talked  rapidly,  describing  a  few  energetic  and  ca 
pable  women  in  Chicago  who  managed  large  businesses. 
"  It  is  so  good  to  feel  that  you  have  a  hand  on  the  reins ; 
aren't  merely  driven  along  in  a  brougham,  while  you 
read  a  novel." 

"  You  must  like  it."  Miss  Parker  warmed  sympatheti 
cally  on  finding  a  spot  of  enthusiasm.  "Chicago  and 
business  must  be  so  much  more  real  than  all  that  stuff 
in  Paris." 

"  I  have  liked  it,"  Mrs.  Wilbur's  face  sobered  again, 
"  while  it  was  venture  and  struggle,  and  I  had  a  hand  in 
it.  But,  I  should  hate  anything  that  came  in  between  me 
and  my  husband,  and  just  this  active,  free  life."  Some 
passionate  chord  had  been  stirred. 

"  A  woman  loves  and  marries  and  has  a  large  scheme 
to  carry  out.  She  plans  living  with  her  husband  as  an 
equal,  and  then  —  "  She  touched  the  horse  quickly. 


108  THE   GOSPEL   OF    FREEDOM 

"  What  ?  "  the  girl  asked  curiously. 

"  Then  she  finds  that  their  roads  must  divide.  She 
must  '  make  the  home/  cultivate  persons  whom  it  is  well 
to  know;  even  entertain  horrid,  stupid  people  because 
her  husband's  interests  are  involved." 

"  But  if  they  are  your  interests  too  ?  " 

"  A  woman  wouldn't  sacrifice  herself  to  get  her  ends 
in  that  way.  Now  we  have  this  house,  I  must  try  to 
be  something  of  a  '  leader/  so  John  thinks,  and  go  in 
for  reading  papers,  or  at  least  for  music  and  art,  because 
the  others  do.  I  must  entertain,  become  a  ' patroness' 
if  I  can,  and  all  the  rest  of  it." 

"I  should  think  it  great  fun  to  have  a  swell  house, 
and  loads  of  people  about,  and  put  my  name  down  for 
all  the  nice  charities.  I'd  have  a  beautiful  time  and  fill 
that  big  temple  of  yours  full  of  interesting  people." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  smiled  indulgently.  "  Interesting  people 
—  I  mean  people  interesting  for  more  than  a  few  minutes 
to  any  one  but  themselves  —  aren't  so  easy  to  find,  my 
dear,  anywhere  in  this  wide  world." 

Molly  Parker  did  not  answer.  That  had  not  been  her 
experience.  Every  object  that  she  could  remember, 
from  the  puppy  dogs  and  the  babies  in  the  streets  to  the 
self-conscious  ISTew  England  professors  at  Aunt  Dexter's, 
had  always  amused  her. 

"  Then  there  are  other  facts  a  woman  doesn't  reckon 
with  before  she  is  married,  —  her  children,"  Mrs.  Wilbur 
continued  abruptly.  "  Molly,  do  you  think  a  woman  is 
horrid  because  she  doesn't  want  children  ? " 

"  Yes,"  the  younger  woman  answered  promptly.    "  Per- 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  109 

haps  not  at  first  while  she  is  kind  of  honeymooning  it, 
but  afterwards  —  why,  of  course." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  the  proper  way  to  look  at  it,"  Mrs. 
Wilbur  assented  regretfully.  "If  a  woman  doesn't 
love  her  husband,  children  are  interests,  and  if  she  does 
love  him,  she  wants  his  children.  But  it  isn't  true  neces 
sarily.  Like  so  many  other  proper  conceptions,  it  may 
be  a  commonplace  lie." 

Miss  Parker  opened  her  eyes  in  consternation,  wider 
and  wider.  "  Well,  your  husband  wants  children ;  every 
man  who  is  good  and  nice  does." 

"  I  don't,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  answered  passionately. 

"Don't  say  that,  dear."  Molly  Parker  gave  a  little 
shiver  of  superstitious  horror. 

"It  is  what  two  women  out  of  every  three  say  or 
think,  if  they  have  any  spirit  in  them,"  Mrs.  Wilbur 
exclaimed  excitedly. 

"  John  has  been  in  the  Dakotas  two  weeks  to-day,  and 
I  haven't  been  with  him  because  —  in  a  few  months  I 
shall  be  a  mother.  Next  week  he  will  be  here  again  for 
a  little  while  and  then  off  for  another  week  in  Boston 
and  New  York.  And  it  would  make  no  difference,  if  he 
were  here  all  the  time,  like  most  business  men,  I  should 
be  put  aside,  —  hors  de  combat.  It  will  be  a  wliole  year, 
perhaps  two,  before  I  can  be  his  companion  again, 
before  I  can  have  any  life  of  my  own.  I  am  tied  to  a 
circumstance  that  may  be  misery,  that  means  two  years 
gone,  out  of  the  twenty  good  ones  of  life.  Not  to  speak 
of  the  others  that  may  come !  " 

"  Why  did  you  marry,  then  ?  " 


110  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"  What  has  that  to  do  with  it  ?  "  she  said  impatiently, 
"  a  woman  doesn't  marry  for  children ;  a  young  woman 
doesn't  think  much  about  it  beforehand.  When  she 
does  think,  she  supposes  what  the  world  says  is  true : 
it  all  arranges  itself,  and  is  a  blessing,  and  a  great  hap 
piness.  The  world  has  been  dealing  in  sentimental  lies 
so  long  that  its  axioms  are  apt  to  be  foolish.  No !  there 
is  no  freedom  for  women:  they  are  marked  incapable 
from  their  birth  and  are  supported  by  men  for  some  ob 
vious  and  necessary  services.  Between  times  they  have 
a  few  indifferent  joys  dealt  out  to  them." 

They  had  driven  slowly  around  the  great  oval  of 
sward  in  the  green  park,  and  crossing  eastward  towards 
the  lake  were  passing  the  grey  walls  of  the  new  uni 
versity,  which  rose  boldly  against  the  steel-blue  sky. 

"You  must  sympathize  with  them"  Miss  Parker 
pointed  dubiously  to  a  group  of  women  students  who 
were  crossing  the  campus. 

Mrs.  Wilbur  made  no  reply  and  they  drove  on  silently 
towards  the  lake.  "Oh!  how  good  it  is,  that  great 
lake,"  Molly  exclaimed  as  if  eager  to  escape  from  some 
shocking  ideas.  "  How  I  love  it,  the  colour  is  so  pure, 
and  the  little  clouds  out  on  the  horizon  are  like  little 
hopes  of  happiness." 

She  jumped  out  of  the  carriage  and  stood  looking 
into  the  lake,  as  if  she  would  grasp  it  in  her  arms,  her 
black  dress  swaying  in  the  air,  and  her  cheeks  flushing 
with  excitement.  Mrs.  Wilbur  watched  her  a  little  envi 
ously. 

"  Now  let  us  talk  about  your  plans,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  be- 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  111 

gan  when  they  had  turned  back  towards  the  city.     "  You 
are  not  marrying,  with  all  your  proper  views." 

"No!  Twenty -four  last  March.  Five  proposals  in 
full  form,  three  half  proposals,  —  kind  of  suggestions, 
—  four  other  things  that  might  have  come  to  something, 
but  didn't.  There  is  hope  still.  I  am  looking  hard  for 
him,  and  when  the  right  young  man  conies  along,  I  won't 
hesitate.  Have  you  any  likely  young  men  in  view  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wilbur  shook  her  head.  "That  is  one  thing 
Chicago  hasn't  produced,  —  ideal  young  men  with  good 
fortunes  suitable  for  ideal  young  women  without  fort 
unes.  There's  Thornton  Jennings,  but  he  hasn't  any 
money.  He  is  quite  the  nicest  young  man  I  know." 

"Then  I  must  do  something  right  off  quick,"  Molly 
Parker  sighed,  disliking  doing  anything  definite  as  much 
as  a  discreet  cat. 

"What  will  you  do?"  Mrs.  Wilbur  asked  thought 
fully. 

"  Teach  kindergarten,  I  guess.  I  get  on  best  with  the 
kids.  But  tell  me  something  about  Chicago  and  the 
people.  How  did  you  come  to  know  them  ? " 

That  was  a  long  theme  which  occupied  the  two  friends 
for  the  rest  of  the  drive.     Mrs.  Wilbur  explained  how 
much  her  uncle  Sebastian  Anthon  had  helped  them  to 
get  a  start  socially  through  some  old  friends,  who  were 
warmly  devoted   to  him.      And  in  Chicago  one  got   to  I 
know  enough   people  very  soon.       There  was  a  certain  j 
social   openness,  and  a  willingness   to   take   people   for  !. 
their  personal  value.     Then  John  had  proved  unusually  f 
sympatico,  had  made  friends  easily. 


112         THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

She  described  the  three  sections  of  the  city  with  their 
three  distinct  milieus.  When  the  city  was  young,  people 
settled  away  from  the  lake  out  of  a  superstition  that  the 
water  was  unhealthy,  —  "  some  miles  in  the  interior  where 
it  is  very  hot,  and  where  it  is  awful  everyway.  Some 
day  I  will  take  you  over  there  and  show  you  the  miles 
of  shabby  homes,  that  bear  all  over  them  the  marks  of 
not  being  in  it."  Then  she  related  "  the  pilgrimage  of 
the  successful."  These  good  people  of  the  West  Side, 
prospered  in  business,  and  desiring  something  more  than 
narrow,  high-stooped  brick  houses  with  black-walnut 
decorations,  moved  down  to  the  lake;  most,  the  very 
rich,  to  the  south  where  land  was  to  be  had  in  plenty. 
Occasionally  a  family  who  had  acute  social  aspirations 
moved  again  to  the  north  into  the  little  segment  of  lake 
shore.  This  northern  settlement  held  itself  as  conserva 
tive  and  distinctly  fashionable.  "  But  the  money  is 
where  we  are,  on  the  South  Side  —  for  the  most  part." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  recounted  ironically,  yet  with  genuine 
interest,  their  own  experiences  in  Chicago.  They  aspired 
to  "the  society  of  progressive  people  of  weight  and 
wealth,  who  patronize  art  and  music  and  education." 
They  were  members  of  the  Art  Association,  of  the 
Society  for  the  Support  of  Classical  Music,  and  a  dozen 
minor  enterprises  of  a  public-spirited  nature.  Then 
Mrs.  Wilbur  described  the  Woman's  Amalgamated  In 
stitute  and  the  Monday  Club,  to  which  she  had  been 
recently  elected. 

"  You  see,"  she  concluded  with  a  laugh,  "  the  women 
foster  the  arts  and  sciences.  We  are  making  it  all: 


THE  GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  113 

we  order  a  stock  of  ideas  as  you  would  get  flowers  from 
a  florist.  Next  Monday  I  am  to  read  my  first  paper,  — 
on  Modern  French  Art.  You  must  come  and  hear  me 
get  off  what  Erard  told  us  over  there." 

"  And  Erard  ?  "  Molly  Parker  put  in  curiously. 

"  He  is  bringing  out  a  book,  I  believe.  He  sent  me 
the  proof,  but  John  had  no  interest  in  it,  and  I  was  too 
tired  after  the  day's  hurly-burly  to  do  more  than  glance 
over  it.  The  picture,  they  say,  was  a  great  success  in 
the  Champ  de  Mars  and  at  Berlin.  It's  on  its  way  over 
now." 

"  I  think,"  Miss  Parker  remarked  irrelevantly,  "  that 
when  we  are  landed  in  one  place,  the  rest  of  the  world 
should  sink  out  of  sight,  —  so  there  need  be  no  pillars  of 
salt  along  the  road." 

"  Chicago  is  just  the  place  for  you  then,"  Mrs.  Wilbur 
answered  wistfully,  looking  down  the  miles  of  Michigan 
Avenue.  "When  you  are  in  it,  you  are  cut  off  by  a 
vacuum,  as  it  were,  from  the  surrounding  world.  You 
can't  see  outside,  and  you  hear  the  voices  of  the  others 
only  faintly." 

"  That  sounds  too  much  like  a  prison  to  be  true." 

Mrs.  Wilbur's  face  looked  as  if  she  were  convinced 
that  it  was  a  prison,  in  certain  aspects  at  least. 


CHAPTER  II 

Miss  PARKER  decided  soon  that  if  Chicago  were  a 
prison,  it  was  a  very  nice  kind  of  prison  to  visit.  Mrs. 
Wilbur's  friends  did  all  manner  of  pleasant  things  to 
entertain  her.  Each  one  seemed  to  feel  responsible  for 
the  good  name  of  Chicago  hospitality,  and  if  the  people 
were  a  little  eager  to  hear  nice  things  abont  their  home, 
Miss  Parker  was  amply  able  to  satisfy  them. 

On  the  appointed  Monday  afternoon  the  two  friends 
sallied  forth  for  the  meeting  of  the  Monday  Club.  Molly 
Parker  watched  with  amusement  the  flutter  of  excite 
ment  with  which  Mrs.  Wilbur  clutched  her  little  package 
of  manuscript,  when,  on  entering  the  room,  they  met 
the  subdued  hum  of  feminine  voices  on  earnest  purposes 
bent.  The  first  paper  was  on  Flaubert,  by  an  impor 
tant  "  social  light "  (as  Mrs.  Wilbur  whispered  to  her 
companion),  and  a  great  worker  for  the  cause  of  woman 
as  distinguished  from  women.  Molly  Parker  knew  noth 
ing  about  Flaubert  beyond  the  fact  that  he  had  written 
at  least  one  naughty  book.  The  paper  was  not  written 
to  inform,  but  to  entertain  and  impress.  There  were 
mysterious  sentences  about  psychology  and  social  move 
ments.  Suddenly  it  was  all  over.  Much  talking  among 
the  rows  of  women  ensued ;  the  president  —  a  little  deli 
cate-faced  lady  —  called  for  criticism  and  remarks  from 
the  floor.  A  few  ladies  berated  poor  Flaubert  roundly 

114 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  115 

and  took  exception  to  some  of  the  opinions  in  the  paper, 
as  "  being  dangerously  subversive  of  the  home."  There 
seemed  to  be  a  general  delicacy  about  speaking  impro 
prieties  even  about  an  improper  book.  So  the  president 
called  for  Mrs.  Wilbur's  paper  —  On  Some  Tendencies 
among  the  Impressionists. 

Mrs.  Wilbur's  paper  was  earnest,  enthusiastic,  a  trifle 
schoolgirly  in  its  sounding  periods.  It  caused  much 
more  discussion  than  poor  Flaubert.  Many  of  the 
women  had  seen  the  impressionists  in  Europe,  and  some 
owned  Pisarros  and  Monets,  and  had  "views."  Molly 
Parker  found  herself  in  a  stirring  atmosphere  of  art 
criticism.  Then  tea  followed;  women  came  up  to  con 
gratulate  Mrs.  Wilbur  and  to  meet  her  friend.  Molly 
was  charmed  by  their  cordiality,  their  unpretentious 
good-sense  and  power. 

"  Why,  it's  great !  "  she  exclaimed  later,  as  they  drove 
back,  "to  find  all  these  fashionable  women  in  such 
stunning  clothes  taking  up  these  serious  interests." 

"They  have  a  lot  more,  —  music,  charities,  civic  ad 
vancement;  and  they  are  really  better  in  practical  affairs. 
It's  not  much  good  discussing  Flaubert  or  the  impres 
sionists  without  a  background,  as  Mr.  Erard  would  say, 
and  though  these  bright  women  read  whatever  they  are 
told  the  world  is  taking  seriously,  and  have  seen  pictures 
and  often  buy  them,  it  is  really  funny  to  hear  the  talk. 
That's  not  their  proper  atmosphere  :  you  can't  supply 
background,  cultivation,  and  insight,  by  any  ready-made 
process  of  education,  evening  lectures,  and  so  on." 

Molly  Parker  was  eager  to  combat  this  ever  present 


116  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

note  of  depreciation  and  dissatisfaction.  "You  expect 
wonders.  They  know  a  deal  more  than  I  with  all  the 
ministers  and  lawyers  in  my  family.  The  proper  values 
—  the  expression  —  will  come  fast  enough  to  the  next 
generation." 

"It's  always  that,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  replied  scornfully. 
"  That  blessed  next  generation !  May  I  live  to  see  it ! 
But  it  requires  a  pretty  lively  imagination  to  be  always 
living  in  the  next  generation  ! " 

"  I  like  this  one."  Molly  settled  herself  comfortably 
in  the  carriage. 

She  found,  however,  that  Mrs.  Wilbur  in  spite  of  her 
lugubrious  reflections,  was  a  fairly  contented  person  and 
ever  active.  The  days  sped  by  in  engagements.  Mrs. 
Wilbur  organized  with  the  organizers;  met  with  com 
mittees  of  the  Civic  Association  and  the  Art  Associa 
tion, —  dined  and  entertained  and  gossiped,  as  if  no 
world  existed  beyond  the  misty  miles  of  Lake  Michigan. 
She  took  Miss  Parker  to  luncheons,  literary,  social,  and 
feminine,  —  and  skilfully  engineered  her  into  the  interest 
of  influential  people. 

Wilbur  had  come  back  from  the  Dakotas  and  was  off 
again,  first  to  New  York,  then  to  Springfield,  and  again 
to  New  York.  Miss  Parker  found  him  better  looking 
than  in  the  Paris  days.  He  was  cordial  to  her,  but 
the  chief  impression  he  gave  was  one  of  great  preoccu 
pation.  Mrs.  Wilbur  explained  this  by  remarking  that 
the  times  were  difficult. 

During  one  of  these  absences,  Mrs.  Wilbur  and  her 
friend  attended  an  open  meeting  of  a  literary  club.  It 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  117 

took  place  in  the  ballroom  of  a  large  house  and  was 
attended  by  a  great  many  society  people.  The  paper  of 
the  evening  on  Walt  Whitman  was  given  by  an  elderly 
gentleman,  a  retired  "  capitalist,"  who  cultivated  letters. 
He  didn't  like  Walt  Whitman,  and  he  made  a  number  of 
jokes  which  seemed  to  touch  responsive  chords  in  the 
audience.  The  occasion  was  less  serious  than  the  Mon 
day  Club,  but  "more  brilliant,"  and  enlivened  by  the 
presence  of  men.  After  the  paper  —  which  was  dis 
creetly  short  —  the  two  friends  found  themselves  among 
strangers  in  one  corner  of  the  large  room.  Presently  a 
young  man  passed  by,  and  catching  sight  of  Mrs.  Wilbur 
came  up  to  them.  Mrs.  Wilbur's  face  lit  with  unusual 
animation  as  she  turned  to  Molly  Parker. 

"  Tliis  is  Mr.  Jennings.  He  can  tell  you  all  about  the 
Civic  Association  —  he's  one  of  the  secretaries  —  and 
about  the  municipal  scandals." 

Miss  Parker  glanced  up  at  the  young  man's  face.  He 
seemed  to  stand  unusually  erect,  with  a  kind  of  military 
uprightness,  rarely  met  with  in  our  civilian  society.  His 
high  forehead  was  rendered  more  conspicuous  by  the 
receding  line  of  hair.  His  green  eyes  were  moist  and 
large  and  played  a  part  in  the  mobility  of  his  face. 
Molly  Parker  smiled  back  in  response  to  his  smile. 
Something  sympathetic  seemed  to  pass  quickly  between 
them  as  they  stood  looking  at  one  another. 

"  He's  trying  to  make  the  city  over,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  con 
tinued. 

"No,"  the  young  fellow  interjected,  "only  working 
my  own  broom  as  vigorously  as  I  can.  And  I  wanted  to 


118  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

see  you  particularly,  Mrs.  Wilbur,  about  this  franchise 
business.  You  must  get  Mr.  Wilbur  to  join  us  in  fight 
ing  it.  For  a  wonder  the  papers  are  dead  with  us,  and 
if  we  can  only  get  the  decent  men  interested,  we  can  pre 
vent  this  rascally  steal." 

Mrs.  Wilbur's  face  grew  solemn,  as  if  she  were  remem 
bering  something  unpleasant.  Jennings  went  on  explana 
torily  to  Miss  Parker.  "  You've  seen  it  in  the  papers  ? 
The  railroad  companies  have  made  a  raid  on  the  legislat 
ure,  to  get  a  lot  of  privileges  for  nothing.  Wrightington 
—  he's  the  scamp  that  owns  the  mayor  and  the  city  coun 
cil —  thinks  the  legislature  cheaper  on  the  whole  than 
the  council,  and  that  makes  the  affair  much  more  serious 
for  all  of  us."  He  talked  on  easily  of  the  situation 
which  was  then  uppermost  in  public  gossip.  It  was  a 
gigantic  steal,  a  fraud  on  the  public  to  be  perpetuated 
for  half  a  century.  The  newspapers  had  been  violent 
over  it :  unfortunately  the  opposition  had  centred  chiefly 
about  a  demagogic  young  city  politician,  who  was  using 
the  uproar  against  Wrightington  for  personal  capital. 

"Mr.  WTilbur  says  the  newspapers  have  overdone  it, 
that  the  measure  isn't  really  so  bad  for  the  city,  and  only 
fair  to  the  railroad  corporations,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  suggested. 
Jennings  looked  at  her  sharply  for  a  moment,  and  then 
answered  swiftly,  — 

"  But  Wrightington's  methods  ?  If  it  were  a  bill 
to  found  hospitals,  his  means  of  getting  it  through  are 
enough  to  blacken  it." 

"  Well,  you  have  to  do  that,  they  say,  to  buy  your  way 
here,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  added  sadly,  a  flush  mounting  over 
her  face. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  119 

"  That  is  the  devil's  argument  that  we  are  always  meet 
ing,"  Jennings  replied  earnestly,  looking  at  Mrs.  Wilbur 
intently.  Then  people  came  up,  and  the  conversation 
ended.  Miss  Parker  found  herself  talking  to  a  hand 
some  young  man  with  a  keen  face.  When  he  had  gone 
Mrs.  Wilbur  said  lightly,  "  You  wouldn't  catch  him  talk 
ing  as  Jennings  did.  He  used  to  be  a  secretary  in  the 
Civic  Association  until  he  got  all  the  notoriety  out  of  it 
he  could.  He  is  a  type  out  here.  Some  years  ago  he  was 
a  clerk  behind  the  counter  in  Arnold's ;  now  you  find  him 
everywhere.  And  they  say  he  will  marry  the  rich  Miss 
McGregor.  He  is  the  <  bound  to  rise '  kind,  and  he  never 
does  anything  that  will  hurt  his  chances.  Watch  him !  " 

There  were  many  others  —  middle-aged  and  young 
men,  "each  with  a  story,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  declared,  "if 
you  only  knew  it." 

"But  your  Thornton  Jennings  is  the  best,"  Molly 
Parker  concluded,  as  they  talked  the  people  over  after 
their  return,  "and  I  hope  you  will  get  John  to  be  on 
his  side.'' 

Mrs.  Wilbur's  face  darkened.  "  That  question  is  so 
complicated,  and  like  so  many  things  here,  opinion  seems 
to  come  down  to  two  views  —  that  of  those  '  who  are  in 
it,'  and  that  of  those  who  aren't.  But  Jennings  is  a 
fine  fellow.  I  met  him  on  the  steamer  coming  home. 
He  turned  up  here  that  winter  as  a  young  lawyer.  John 
calls  him  '  my  stripling.' " 

"Well,  I  like  your  stripling,  and  I  think  he  will  be 
somebody." 

"  Or  leave  us." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  glamour  of  the  "  partnership "  plan  of  marriage 
was  fading  away  in  Adela  Wilbur's  mind.  She  had 
found  money-getting  exciting  enough,  while  it  was  a 
matter  of  large  chances  in  which  she  took  part.  Now 
that  she  was  forced  to  accept  the  usual  interests  of 
women,  she  tried  to  invest  her  new  home,  her  clubs 
and  acquaintances,  with  importance.  This  form  of 
excitement,  however,  was  not  what  she  had  planned. 
And  her  husband  seemed  to  be  getting  away  from  her 
rapidly.  The  Water-Hoister  Company  was  a  thing  of 
the  past.  Two  bad  seasons  in  Kansas  and  Nebraska 
had  crippled  the  concern.  Wilbur  had  insisted  on  "  get 
ting  out "  in  due  season.  The  first  division  between  them 
had  come  over  his  plan  of  selling  their  large  holdings, 
with  the  idea  of  buying  in  later  on  a  low  market.  To  her 
this  familiar  device  was  like  a  sneaky  trading  of  your 
home.  Their  partnership  was  based  upon  faith  in  the 
idea  of  the  Water-Hoister.  To  step  out  and  let  other 
people  bear  the  burden  of  its  hard  days  was,  if  not  dis 
honesty,  cowardice.  Wilbur's  sagacity,  however,  had 
been  proved  convincingly.  Hoister  stock  fell  steadily, 
until  now  it  was  kicked  about  for  purely  speculative 
purposes. 

120 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FEEEDOM  121 

What  Wilbur  had  done  with  the  sums  realized  from 
their  Hoister  stock,  she  knew  only  vaguely.  He  was 
so  much  in  the  thick  of  the  fight  that  she  could  not 
follow  his  rapid  movements.  She  inferred  that  he  was 
one  of  a  group  of  young  capitalists,  of  whom  the  news 
papers  asserted  Wrightington  was  the  master-mind. 

The  great  Wrightington !  This  name  hawked  about 
ever  since  she  had  known  anything  of  Chicago,  filled  her 
with  a  kind  of  terror.  He  was  an  unscrupulous  advent 
urer,  who  had  "  gone  broke  "  several  times,  yet  was  always 
triumphant ;  a  man  received  nowhere,  of  no  respectable 
affiliations,  yet  a  power  to  be  followed.  Many  of  the 
respectable  element  secretly  admired  his  audacity,  half 
excused  his  reputation,  and  covertly  followed  his  lead. 
He  was  brazen,  impudent,  cynical,  and  inevitable.  Of 
late  the  papers  had  been  frantic  over  Wrightington ;  they 
teemed  with  the  usual  charges  of  scandalous  corruption 
and  bribery  which  his  transactions  periodically  aroused. 
Wilbur  had  shown  unusual  irritation,  when  his  wife  had 
approached  the  subject  of  the  protest  before  the  legis 
lature  by  the  Civic  Association. 

"  Don't  mix  us  up  in  that  tomfoolery,"  he  had  blurted 
out.  "  Your  nice  people  are  keeping  quiet  to  escape  the 
mud  the  papers  are  throwing,  but  you  will  see  fast 
enough  what  side  they  are  on  six  months  hence." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  was  confused  by  these  words,  and  unable 
to  ravel  out  this  question  complicated  by  prejudices. 
She  tried  to  put  it  out  of  her  mind,  to  believe  that  her 
husband  was  right :  "  it  was  not  a  matter  for  amateurs." 
But  every  morning  the  question  stared  her  in  the  face 


122  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

in  the  columns  of  the  newspapers,  and  was  dinned  in 
her  ears  even  in  the  gossip  of  the  women's  clubs.  She 
could  not  escape  a  perpetual  query :  "  What  has  John  to 
do  with  it  ?  " 

Little  things,  quickly  noted  and  interpreted,  indicated 
to  her  that  he  had  much  to  do  with  this  "deal,"  and 
a  few  days  brought  greater  certainty.  The  Sunday  fol 
lowing  her  talk  with  her  husband,  they  had  visited  their 
new. house,  which  was  now  nearly  ready  for  the  deco 
rators.  On  their  return  Wilbur  proposed  that  they 
should  call  on  the  Remsens,  who  were  to  be  near  neigh 
bours.  There  they  met  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Israel  Tracey,  also 
neighbours  in  the  Chicago  sense.  Presently  Mrs.  Stevans, 
an  important  and  wealthy  widow,  came  in  with  a  young 
broker  (who  was  also  a  "society  man"),  named  Wren. 
The  men  drawing  to  one  side  of  the  large  library  fell  to 
talking  confidentially  among  themselves.  Mrs.  Wilbur 
listened  apprehensively  to  the  earnest  tones.  Israel 
Tracey,  a  short,  squat,  powerfully  built  man  of  fifty,  was 
speaking  his  mind  freely  to  a  sympathetic  audience. 

"  The  papers  are  all  humbug.  Squires  in  the  Courant 
is  down  on  it  because  Wrightington  froze  him  out  once 
years  ago.  He  hasn't  said  a  word  in  his  paper  about 
the  omnibus  electric  ordinance,  which  was  a  sight  more 
shady.  He  had  a  hand  in  that  pie.  The  papers  are  all 
rotten;  it's  straight  blackmail  and  intimidation."  His 
face  puffed  out  redly. 

"  It's  a  shame,  the  way  the  papers  lead  people  by  the 
nose,"  Wren  put  in. 

"  There  was  a  time,"  Remsen,  who  was  heavily  inter- 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  123 

ested  in  real  estate,  began  sententiously,  "when  every 
one  howled  for  anything  in  Chicago.  Yon  wouldn't  see 
a  word  of  blame  in  the  papers  no  matter  what  people 
might  think.  Nothing  was  too  good  to  say  about  the 
city.  It  was  the  best  place  on  earth  to  live  and  die  in. 
Now  if  the  papers  keep  this  racket  up,  people  will  be 
afraid  to  put  a  dollar  in  the  place.  They're  just  ruin 
ing  it,  damning  everything  and  every  one  so.  They've 
gone  pious  all  of  a  sudden." 

"  But  you  wouldn't  have  them  approve  of  Wrighting- 
ton."  Mrs.  Wilbur  ventured  into  the  conversation  im 
pulsively.  There  was  a  moment  of  silence  in  the  room, 
as  if  some  one  had  awkwardly  spilled  a  glass  of  water. 
Wilbur  looked  annoyed. 

"Well,"  Tracey  began  again,  defiantly,  "Wrighting- 
ton  is  a  mighty  clever  man.  This  franchise  business  is 
misrepresented.  He  needs  it  to  protect  his  properties 
and—" 

"  What's  more,  he'll  get  it,  too,  in  one  way  or  another." 
Wren  laughed  at  his  own  cynicism.  "  All  this  howling 
may  make  the  price  higher,  but  he's  bound  to  get  it." 

"  The  bill  passed  the  Senate  yesterday,"  Remsen  ex 
plained.  "  There's  only  the  governor  now." 

Wren  laughed.  The  other  men  smiled  and  tacitly 
abandoned  the  topic.  Just  then,  as  Mrs.  Wilbur  turned 
back  to  the  women,  feeling  reproved,  she  caught  a  look 
of  intelligence  which  passed  between  Mrs.  Tracey  and 
Mrs.  Stevans.  The  latter,  who  had  taken  no  part  in 
the  talk,  was  smiling  knowingly  across  to  Mrs.  Tracey. 
Mrs.  Wilbur  saw  her  lips  moving  in  an  inaudible  whis- 


124  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

per.  She  seemed  to  hear  the  words,  "Did  you  have 
something  in  it  ?  "  And  she  noted  Mrs.  Tracey's  smile 
and  affirmative  nod.  The  pantomime  was  over  in  five 
seconds,  but  it  gave  her  a  vivid  shock. 

All  these  people  were  gambling  on  the  chances  of 
Wrightington's  having  successfully  bought  the  legislat 
ure  and  the  governor.  Perhaps  the  franchise  was  just 
enough,  but  to  speculate  on  the  chances  of  bribery  struck 
Mrs.  Wilbur  as  peculiarly  sordid.  She  had  a  revulsion 
of  feeling  different  in  the  case  of  each  one.  Little  Wren, 
with  his  moth-eaten  baldness,  his  fat,  pudgy  nose,  and 
bleared  eyelids,  seemed  like  a  pander.  The  newpapers 
had  it,  she  remembered,  that  he  had  spent  most  of  the 
winter  in  Springfield  as  one  of  Wrightington's  agents. 
His  hands  were  really  soiled  with  dirty  money.  And 
Mrs.  Stevans,  the  ample  Mrs.  Stevans,  of  capacious  bosom 
and  highly  coloured  reputation !  The  champagne  for  her 
dinners  came  in  this  way.  The  Traceys  were  another 
kind:  they  had  risen  straight  from  the  lumber-camp. 
One  could  hardly  resent  the  expression  of  naive,  peasant 
cunning  on  Mrs.  Tracey's  hard  little  face.  Twenty 
years  ago,  when  she  haggled  with  the  company's  agent 
over  tobacco  and  pork,  that  expression  began  to  grow. 
And  the  Kemsens  —  well,  she  liked  them  and  respected 
them,  yet  it  was  commonly  said  that  Reinsen's  extra 
two  millions  came  from,  a  "  tip "  on  the  sugar  schedule 
of  the  Wilson  bill. 

JEEer  disgust  was  not  excessively  moral.  To  be  sure,  old 
John  Anthon  had  taught  her  that  the  laws  of  commer 
cial  morality  were  none  other  than  those  of  private  up- 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  125 

lightness.  Yet  the  disgust  she  felt  was  more  than  moral ; 
it  was  a  loathing  of  the  sordid,  of  the  brutal,  of  the 
vulgar.  Had  she,  Adela  Anthon,  with  her  high-strung 
ideals  of  man's  life,  her  wide-sweeping  ambitions,  come 
to  be  a  party  in  such  an  affair  ?  Had  she  exchanged  her 
love  of  intellectual  life,  her  longing  for  beauty,  to  share 
in  a  common  swindle  on  the  public,  brought  about  by  a 
dicker  between  a  knave  and  a  gang  of  venal  country  legis 
lators  ? 

She  rose  abruptly  and  escaped.  On  the  drive  home, 
Wilbur  did  not  speak.  He  seemed  disgusted  with  her, 
yet  tolerant  in  consideration  for  her  condition.  At  last 
she  asked  bitterly,  "  So  we  belong  to  that  crew  ?  " 

"  I  thought  you  were  a  bigger  woman,  Adela,  than  to 
talk  like  that.  If  you  mean,  that  I  have  put  every 
dollar  I  could  raise  into  traction  stocks,  yes,  —  three 
months  ago.  But  it  isn't  good  for  you  to  talk  over  such 
matters ;  it  only  disturbs  you." 

Yet  when  she  was  silent,  he  felt  forced  to  continue. 
"  I  believe  that  the  companies  should  get  this  franchise  ; 
all  the  noise  over  it  is  absurd.  As  for  the  corruption 
charges,  they're  always  made.  Probably  there's'  been 
plenty  of  grease  used  in  this  matter.  But  we  have  to 
do  it,  here,  and  that's  all  there  is  about  it." 

"  And  suppose  you  lose  ?  Suppose  the  governor  is  an 
honest  man  and  vetoes  the  bill  ?  " 

Wilbur  laughed.  "  You  don't  suppose  I'd  have  three 
hundred  thousand  in  it  if  I  didn't  know  which  way  the 
governor  is  going  to  jump.  He  came  high,  but  —  well, 
Wrightington  is  nervy.  You  will  see  that  he  will  play 


126  THE   GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM 

it  out  well ;  the  governor'll  hold  off,  and  have  a  hear 
ing,  and  go  through  all  the  forms.  But  he'll  sign." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  gave  a  quick  gasp.  Wilbur  put  his  arm 
about  her.  "  You  are  nervous,  Adela.  You  wouldn't  be 
so  freaky  over  this  business  if  you  were  all  right.  And, 
Ady,  it  means  the  house.  If  this  goes  through,  the 
house  is  all  right,  but  we  were  getting  into  a  bad  way." 

This  argument  hardly  appeased  her.  So  their  home 
was  to  represent  this  transaction.  She  could  never  cross 
the  threshold  without  feeling  that  Wrightington  had 
given  it  to  them  ;  it  was  a  morsel  of  Wrightington's 
plunder. 

"  And  there  are  plenty  of  men  in  Chicago  who  have 
taken  the  same  chances !  The  Ealstons,  and  the  Browns, 
and  the  Heckers  are  mighty  stuck  on  themselves.  But 
what  with  false  assessments,  and  contributions  to  the  city 
council,  watered  industrials,  and  tips  on  sugar,  I  guess 
they  needn't  boast." 

"Don't  you  think  there  are  any  honest  men  in  this 
city  ?  " 

"A  great  many,  from  my  point  of  view.  Not  so 
many  from  yours.  A  woman  can't  understand  it.  Busi 
ness  is  like  life :  you've  got  to  play  as  the  others  do 
and  play  hard  all  the  time,  or  you'll  be  chucked  out. 
You  can't  be  dainty." 

She  knew  that  this  opinion  was  final.  He  was  not  a 
bad  man,  he  was  not  corrupt ;  he  was  merely  heartily  of 
his  times,  and  her  scruples  were  unintelligible  to  him. 
He  was  the  same  Wilbur  that  had  convinced  her  in  Paris 
of  the  desirability  of  action.  He  had  developed,  and  she 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM  127 

had  caught  sight  of  his  claws.  That  was  all.  So  she 
gave  up  the  contest,  as  he  lit  a  cigar  and  lowered  the 
carriage  window.  The  frosty  air  hung  in  clouds  about 
the  eaves  of  the  houses,  and  the  hard  roadbed  of  the 
boulevard  gave  a  chill  thud  to  the  horses'  hoofs,  while 
they  rolled  swiftly  through  this  city  of  men. 
Was  marriage  altogether  like  a  partnership  ? 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  hearing  before  the  governor  at  Springfield  came 
off  as  Wilbur  had  predicted.  The  papers  reported  that 
Charles  Bishop  Wren,  together  with  Israel  Tracey  and 
Wrightington,  had  gone  on  to  the  capital  to  plead  for 
the  bill.  Also  Thornton  Jennings,  chairman  of  a  sub 
committee  of  the  Civic  Association,  appeared  before  his 
excellency,  as  the  sole  representative  of  the  opposition. 
Public  opinion  was  exhausted,  or  submissive :  the  matter 
seemed  already  arranged. 

"  You  see,"  Wilbur  explained  to  his  wife,  "  no  one  of 
any  account  has  taken  the  pains  to  appear  before  the 
governor  against  the  bill." 

"  Perhaps  they  prefer  to  save  their  fares,"  she  re 
torted.  He  made  no  reply,  and  she  was  afraid  to  trust 
herself  further.  Yet  she  listened  eagerly  to  Jennings, 
who  happened  in  one  afternoon,  while  he  described  his 
experiences  at  Springfield. 

"  The  '  hearing '  was  a  regular  love-feast  between  old 
Wrightington  and  his  excellency,  the  governor,  who  was 
moderately  full.  They  sat  on  me  every  time  I  opened 
my  mouth."  He  laughed  good-humouredly,  stretching 
out  his  long  figure.  "At  last  the  governor  suggested 
that  I  should  hand  in  a  brief  of  my  case.  He  had  had 
enough  of  *  chin.7  It  was  a  delicious  farce." 

128 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  129 

"  He  signed,  then  ?  "  Mrs.  Wilbur  asked  nervously. 

"Not  yet.  But  of  course  it  is  all  settled.  I  knew 
that  when  I  went  on." 

She  looked  at  him  admiringly.  He  continued  idly. 
"  I  wanted  to  be  in  at  the  death.  It  was  worth  it  too, 
as  a  comedy."  He  laughed  again  contagiously.  "  I  met 
old  Parsons  of  our  firm  on  the  train.  He  gave  me  some 
fatherly  advice  about  sticking  to  business,  and  keeping 
out  of  '  politics.'  He  cited  a  model  —  Jack  Hendricks  — 
you  know  him  ?  The  slim,  white,  perfectly  clean  young 
man  who  is  trying  to  marry  Remsen's  youngest.  Honest- 
policy  Jack  we  call  him  at  the  office.  He  is  a  nice  young 
man." 

His  mind  ran  on  nervously,  and  when  he  spoke  again 
he  seemed  to  be  looking  into  the  future.  "  But  the  good 
people  of  Chicago  are  running  things  on  a  wrong  basis, 
and  some  day  they  will  wake  up  with  forty-thousand 
Polacks  and  other  impetuous  citizens  tearing  down  their 
houses." 

"I  shouldn't  be  altogether  sorry!"  Mrs.  Wilbur  flamed 
out. 

"  Well,  if  there  were  only  Wrightingtons  and  Traceys 
and  such  like.  But  the  others  —  you  ?  After  all  there 
would  be  merely  a  row,  some  shooting,  and  back  again 
to  the  old  game  of  grab." 

She  reflected  after  he  had  gone  that  Wren  had  called 
him  a  socialist,  a  meddler.  "  They  think  he  should  be 
a  clergyman ! "  She  was  glad  that  he  left  before  her 
husband  should  come  in  and  find  her  with  her  "  eastern 
puppy,  the  young  agitator."  She  did  not  wish  to  have 

K 


130  THE   GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

any  extra  prejudices  to  contend  with.  For  her  feeling 
was  high:  —  she  must  express  herself  somehow,  must 
struggle  to  draw  herself  and  her  husband  out  of  this 
situation.  Wilbur  found  her  walking  nervously  back 
and  forth,  crushing  in  her  hot  hands  the  evening  paper 
with  its  "  story  "  of  the  hearing. 

Mrs.  Wilbur  was  too  excited  to  use  any  finesse.  She 
outlined  her  plan  rapidly :  —  they  must  sell  the  invest 
ments  made  with  her  money,  and  use  that  for  the  new 
house.  In  this  way  she  thought  to  induce  her  husband 
to  drop  the  traction  stocks.  For,  she  concluded,  "then 
our  home  won't  always  be  a  sore  between  us." 

Wilbur  looked  at  her  disgustedly.  "  That's  the  woman 
in  business!  I  don't  care  to  let  go  my  hold  in  the 
Alaska  company,  nor  in  the  other  things.  As  far  as 
your  conscience  is  concerned,  —  well,  I  have  already 
made  eighty  thousand  in  this  deal.  What  would  you 
like  me  to  do  with  that  ? " 

He  spoke  coolly,  almost  good-naturedly,  but  with 
contempt.  Mrs.  Wilbur  rose  quickly  and  walked  up  and 
down  the  room,  speaking  passionately. 

"  Do !  Let  us  get  rid  of  it  all  and  keep  just  what  I  had 
from  my  father  and  leave  this  place,  this  prison.  We 
can  go  to  Europe  and  live  quietly  and  decently  and  think 
of  other  things.  If  this  goes  on,  we  shall  be  like  the 
others,  like  the  Traceys,  all  of  them,  ploughing  the  mud 
for  swill.  This  isn't  life, — this  is  —  " 

Pausing  for  the  word,  she  caught  herself,  and  grew 
calm  again.  Her  fury,  which  had  made  her  speak  out 
for  once,  appeared  childish,  ineffective.  Her  desire  was 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM  131 

the  old,  womanish  desire  —  to  run  away  from  the  pres 
ent,  to  elude  the  tangle. 

Wilbur  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  Then  as  if 
recollecting  that  allowances  should  be  made  for  her,  he 
spoke  again  calmly. 

"  Well,  you  wouldn't  like  that  kind  of  thing  long.  I 
shouldn't,  I  can  tell  you.  That  isn't  life,  doing  nothing 
but  just  dawdling  around  and  being  respectable.  You're 
all  twisted  up  and  nervous,  Ada,  and  the  best  thing  is 
for  us  not  to  talk  business  until  you  are  better.  Then 
you'll  feel  differently." 

She  looked  over  at  him  critically.  He  certainly  would 
never  "feel  differently."  He  stood  alert,  keenly  alive, 
self-reliant,  quite  assured,  —  one  who  had  fitted  into  fate 
admirably.  Her  passion  for  business,  for  the  stir  and 
contest  of  affairs,  ended  there,  that  night.  The  papers 
were  torn,  the  partnership  dissolved. 

Her  excessive  feeling  was  unreasonable,  she  knew,  yet 
this  episode  of  the  traction  stocks  had  revealed  to  her  all 
the  ugliness  of  this  game  with  money,  which  as  a  girl  she 
had  fancied  to  be  fine  and  exciting.  Others  possibly 
might  play  it  with  ideal  justice,  but  so  few,  so  very 
few !  And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  your  ideas  of  fair 
play  became  warped  insensibly,  that  the  best  of  men 
acquired  a  contempt  for  the  "amateurishness"  and 
"  quixotry  "  of  their  youth.  They  became  Jesuits  with 
their  souls.  And  the  end  of  it  all  after  you  had  got  the 
success  was  one  or  all  of  three  things :  personal  indul 
gence,  charity,  or  a  vague  kind  of  comfort  in  the  general 
development  of  mankind.  Money  made  Chicago  expand 


132  THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

until  men  became  dizzy  contemplating  where  the  end 
might  be.  But  what  use  in  all  this  multiplication,  if 
it  meant  no  gain  in  quality,  no  finer  fibre,  no  higher 

I  life  of  the  mind  or  of  the  soul?  If  the  hard,  honest 
Keinsen  were  but  to  give  place  to  the  unctuous  Wren? 
Why  go  on  sowing  a  vast  country,  planting  dollars  and 
reaping  millions;  multiplying  railroads  and  factories 
and  mines,  —  when  all  that  came  of  it  was  an  immense 

•  commissariat  business  for  the  accumulating  hordes  of 
greedy,  half-educated,  wholly  common  people  ?  One  pas 
sionate,  intolerant  moment  killed  this  woman's  love  of 
business  energy,  —  the  mere  exercise  of  getting  wealth. 
It  was  a  curious  trade,  —  that  was  all. 

Her  imagination  made  her  unfair,  narrow.  She  could 
not  see  that  in  this  wholesale  indictment  of  an  eager, 
fresh  civilization,  she  was  condemning  the  order  of 
nature.  She  did  not  pause  to  consider  the  sturdy  men 
who  kept  to  their  ideals,  nor  realize  that  the  seething, 
hungry  mass  who  fought  for  the  only  glory  they  knew 
were  pitiable  and  blind.  She  would  have  none  of  it. 

Six  weeks  later  Mrs.  Wilbur's  son  came.  When 
she  had  grown  strong  enough  for  her  old  life,  she 
put  all  business  aside  methodically,  turning  away  from 
the  stock  quotations  in  the  newspapers  in  nervous 
dread,  and  skilfully  avoiding  any  reference  to  their 
affairs  whenever  Wilbur  showed  himself  inclined  to  talk 
business.  There  had  been  a  time  when  she  resented  her 
child's  interference  with  her  plans,  his  division  between 
her  and  her  husband.  Now  she  welcomed  it,  trying  to 
make  up  to  the  little  Sebastian  her  disloyalty  during  the 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  133 

months  before  his  birth.  Even  Molly  Parker,  who  pre 
sided  over  a  small  kindergarten  in  the  neighbourhood, 
found  her  a  sufficiently  solicitous  mother. 

When  Thornton  Jennings  wondered  why  Mrs.  Wilbur 
had  lost  her  interest  in  the  Legal  Aid  Society  and  in 
the  committees  of  the  Civic  Association,  Miss  Parker 
explained  blithely,  "  She  has  other  things  to  think  of." 

"I  don't  believe  it  is  that,  altogether.  She  was  not 
the  kind  to  lose  all  interest  in  this  fashion." 

"Perhaps  she  is  passing  through  a  crisis.  She  is 
always  having  a  crisis  on  hand." 

And  Wilbur  —  who  found  nothing  to  complain  of  in 
his  handsome,  composed  wife  —  also  wondered  about  the 
crisis.  He  found  himself  left  completely  to  his  own  de 
vices.  He  did  not  bother  himself  long,  for  the  business 
world  was  beginning  to  shake  off  the  lethargy  of  the 
past  two  years,  and  he  was  busy  with  success.  At  odd 
moments,  the  husband  and  wife  talked  of  the  new  house. 
It  was  nearly  ready  now  for  occupancy,  and  there  was  an 
undiscussed  plan  to  move  late  in  the  summer. 

Mrs.  Anthon,  who  had  come  from  St.  Louis  to  assist  in 
this  operation,  was  anxious  that  the  house  should  be  prop 
erly  dedicated  by  some  important  social  event.  Wilbur 
agreed  with  her,  and  the  two  discussed  the  matter  for 
weeks.  At  last  Mrs.  Wilbur  showed  enough  interest  to 
suggest,  languidly,  giving  a  musicale.  "Then,"  she 
added,  "  we  might  have  a  series  of  lectures  on  art  sub 
jects  by  Mr.  Erard.  The  Woman's  Amalgamated  Insti 
tute  have  asked  me  to  get  him  for  the  club,  and  I  might 
offer  the  house." 


134  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

Mrs.  Anthon  sniffed  dubiously.  "  I  thought  you  had 
dropped  that  fellow  by  this  time.  What's  he  doing  over 
here  ?  " 

"  Visiting  and  lecturing,  I  believe.  He  will  be  in  Chi 
cago  by  the  end  of  October.  I  had  thought  of  asking 
him  to  stay  with  us  while  he  is  here.  What  do  you  say, 
John,  to  having  him  ?  " 

"I  kind  of  think  as  your  mother  does.  What's  the 
use  of  bothering  with  him  any  longer  ?  He  is  either  on 
his  legs  by  this  time  or  ought  to  be." 

He  asked,  as  a  second  thought,  "  Have  you  been  send 
ing  him  money  right  along  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied  in  her  usual  calm  tones.  "  But 
I  won't  have  him  here  if  it  troubles  you.  The  lectures 
will  be  for  women  in  the  mornings,  you  know." 

"Oh!  if  he  interests  you,  —  I  thought  we  had  been 
travelling  different  roads  these  last  years  — " 

"Yes."  Mrs.  Wilbur's  tone  was  slightly  ironical. 
"We  have  been  going  different  ways,  but  I  still  find 
him  —  interesting";  perhaps  more  than  —  well,  most 
things." 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  night  of  the  musicals  Erard  arrived  at  the  Wil 
bur's  very  late.  He  had  driven  from  his  hotel,  after 
a  comfortable  dinner  and  a  cigar,  without  taking  the 
trouble  to  ascertain  the  distance.  When  he  entered  the 
hall,  he  could  hear  the  music  from  an  inner  room,  —  a 
bit  from  a  new  Russian  symphony,  more  intricate  than 
melodious.  Through  the  doors  opening  broadly  into  the 
hall,  he  could  see  the  people,  the  women  seated  in  ir 
regular  bunches  fanning  themselves  and  furtively  look 
ing  about,  to  inventory  the  guests  and  the  rooms.  As 
he  continued  to  peep,  he  was  surprised  at  the  brilliancy 
of  the  dress.  He  had  vaguely  fancied  the  inhabitants 
as  costumed  in  something  between  the  conventional 
blanket  of  the  frontier  and  the  plush  absurdities  of  our 
grandmothers.  Yet  these  women,  many  of  them  so  portly 
that  they  could  carry  magnificence,  appeared  more  richly 
dressed  than  anything  he  remembered  in  London  or  Paris. 

The  men  were  standing  about  the  doors  in  various  un 
comfortable  attitudes,  seemingly  unhabituated  to  this 
difficult  part  of  the  full-dress  parade.  Erard  noticed,  as 
he  glanced  about,  that  they  were  generally  middle-aged, 
solid  men,  with  here  and  there  a  bony,  wiry  specimen. 
To  his  European  eye,  the  faces  appeared  individual,  yet 
curiously  undistinguished ;  "  rudimentary  types,"  he 

135 


136          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

murmured.  Every  one  was  silent  and  serious,  as  if  liv 
ing  up  to  the  decorum  of  the  occasion. 

One  of  the  footmen,  who  had  taken  his  coat  and 
hat,  followed  him  and  motioned  to  a  room  on  the  right, 
away  from  the  music.  Erard  took  the  hint,  thinking 
to  find  a  chair  where  he  might  make  himself  comfort 
able  until  the  music  arrived  at  an  intermission.  He 
found  himself  in  a  dimly  lighted  room,  which  had  evi 
dently  been  planned  for  a  library.  He  perceived  indif 
ferently  half-a-dozen  other  occupants  of  the  room.  As 
his  eyes  began  to  wander  about,  he  saw  Mrs.  Wilbur,  who 
was  watching  him  from  the  other  end.  The  first  thing 
he  noticed  about  her  was  the  dress:  he  had  painted 
something  like  that  once,  with  its  delightful  folds  of 
white  lace  and  cream-coloured  satin.  And  the  face,  too, 
he  had  painted  that.  Mrs.  Wilbur  caught  his  eyes,  and 
they  looked  for  an  instant  at  each  other,  examining. 
Then  he  noticed  Mrs.  Anthon,  planted  firmly  in  another 
corner  of  the  room.  She  seemed  a  bit  dumpier  than 
three  years  before,  and  more  complex  in  dress. 

The  music  ceased  with  an  awakening  bang.  A  ser 
vant  turned  on  the  electric  lights.  Erard  crossed  the 
room  to  greet  his  hostess. 

"  Where  is  the  original  ?  "  he  asked  meaningly.  "  I 
wish  to  compare  it  with  —  the  portrait." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  flushed  with  annoyance. 

"  So  it  is !  the  great  red  divan  and  the  same  dress  and 
the  house.  I  couldn't  have  arranged  it  more  expressly 
for  you!  The  portrait  is  in  here,"  she  turned  to  an 
inner  room,  designed  for  her  den,  and  touched  an  electric 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  137 

knob.  Erard  looked  at  his  hostess  critically,  while  she 
threw  herself,  wilfully,  into  the  pose. 

"Not  quite,"  he  announced,  glancing  at  the  portrait 
that  faced  them,  "not  the  final  thing.  Perhaps  another 
year  or  two.  The  stone  is  harder  than  I  thought,  and 
perhaps  you  have  complicated  the  problem." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  refrained  from  pushing  him  to  an  ex 
planation. 

"And  you  have  changed  also:  prosperity  has  altered 
you" 

"  Yes,  we  take  less  tragedy  in  our  portions  as  we  go 
on.  The  pinnacle  doesn't  seem  quite  so  distinguished, 
nor  the  abyss  so  awful,  as  it  did  once.  It  is  the 
middle  light  of  life." 

"And  your  work?  the  painting?"  she  suggested 
eagerly. 

"  I  paint  less,"  he  replied  uneasily.  "  Each  season  I 
mean  to  get  at  it  again,  but  the  penalty  of  success  in 
one  effort  is  that  you  are  expected  to  repeat  yourself. 
I  am  repeating  myself." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  do  that,"  she  replied  pleadingly, 
understanding  that  he  referred  to  the  success  of  his 
writing.  She  would  have  carried  protest  further,  but 
Mrs.  Anthon  intervened  with  a  tardy  guest  who  had 
been  hunting  for  her  hostess. 

"Ady,  here  is  Mrs.  Stevans.  She's  been  looking  for 
you.  Why  are  you  hid  off  here  ?  You  mustn't  flirt  in 
the  corners  when  you  have  friends  to  look  after." 

Mrs.  Stevans  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  guests ; 
Mrs.  Wilbur  introduced  Erard  to  her. 


138  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"  TJie  Mr.  Erard  ?  "  Mrs.  Stevans  beamed  at  him  from 
the  entrenchment  of  her  broad,  uncovered  shoulders  and 
bosom.  He  looked  positively  dapper  and  slim  in  com 
parison.  "  You  are  coming  to  tell  us  all  about  pictures." 

"  Not  so  bad  as  that/'  Erard  protested. 

"Why,  it's  the  Mr.  Erard  who  painted  your  picture, 
Ady  ! "  Mrs.  Anthon  exclaimed. 

"  You  must  meet  some  of  them  and  talk  with  them," 
Mrs.  Wilbur  said  quickly,  to  extricate  him,  and  she  led 
the  group  back  to  the  large  rooms. 

"  I  shall  have  you  to  dinner,  and  you  must  tell  me  all 
about  my  naughty  friend,  Mrs.  Warmister,"  Mrs.  Stevans 
shot  at  Erard  as  he  moved  away.  Then  he  found  him 
self  navigated  about,  presented  to  this  important  person 
and  that.  The  men  received  him  with  grave  empresse- 
ment.  They  took  it  for  granted  that  "  he  was  a  leading 
light  in  his  line,"  and  though  they  were  not  familiar 
with  that  line,  they  were  propitious  to  any  prophet  who 
had  achieved  success  in  it.  In  a  remote  corner  Erard 
bumped  against  Mr.  Sebastian  Anthon. 

"So  you're  back  in  America  at  last."  The  old  man 
greeted  him  cordially,  holding  out  a  thin,  trembling  hand. 
"For  long?" 

"  A  few  months,"  Erard  replied  patronizingly ;  "  to 
get  an  idea  what  it  is  like.  A  vacation,  you  know,  after 
my  book." 

"  Ah,  yes,"  the  old  man  murmured  thoughtfully.  "  It's 
mostly  books  now,  isn't  it  ?  instead  of  pictures." 

"Criticism  absorbs  me  the  more  I  think,"  Erard 
admitted. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  139 

"  A  pity,  it's  a  pity,  you  know.  Talk  doesn't  amount 
to  much  —  in  the  end  —  all  the  talk  in  the  world.  I 
have  a  nephew  over  there  in  London  —  Walter,  a  pretty 
boy.  He  does  a  lot  of  talking,  clever  boy.  But  the 
thing,  the  main  thing,  is  to  feel."  He  looked  at  Erard 
as  if  from  a  distance,  examining  his  shambling  form 
and  thin  face  to  see  whether  this  fellow  had  it  in  him 
to  feel. 

Suddenly  the  music  began  once  more,  a  fugue  resur 
rected  from  some  German  manuscript  and  given  to  the 
modern  world  for  the  first  time  by  the  able  young  con 
ductor.  Erard  took  the  opportunity  to  slide  away  from 
Sebastian  Anthon.  He  seemed  to  hear  as  an  accom 
paniment  to  the  grave  fugue  the  old  man  repeating,  "  A 
pity,  it's  a  pity ! "  Soon  he  was  beyond  his  tormentor, 
very  near  to  the  booming  music.  Mrs.  Wilbur  had  ar 
ranged  the  musical  part  of  the  evening,  he  concluded; 
she  had  shown  positive  genius  in  knowing  what  would 
impress  the  public  and  make  her  "function"  remem 
bered  through  the  season.  And  the  credentials  of  every 
selection  were  printed  out  on  a  little  programme. 

Then  came  the  food  and  drink,  to  which  the  guests 
devoted  themselves  assiduously,  earnestly,  with  what 
seemed  to  Erard  an  enormous  reserve  force.  Wilbur 
had  looked  out  for  the  supper,  and  he  also  had  calcu 
lated  well.  In  the  billiard-room,  where  the  men  left 
their  wraps,  were  liquors  and  cigars,  towards  which 
from  time  to  time  the  younger  males  disappeared.  This 
private-bar,  in  addition  to  the  profuse  champagne  served 
publicly,  aroused  Erard's  curiosity. 


140  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

He  tiptoed  about,  sniffing  the  new  atmosphere.  He 
came  across  Molly  Parker  seated  in  a  recess  of  the  hall, 
enjoying  equally  her  ice  and  a  sleepy,  affable  young 
man  who  was  telling  a  long  story.  She  looked  very 
attractive  in  a  black  gown,  with  long  black  gloves ;  the 
sombre  colour  deepened  the  fairness  of  her  skin  and 
emphasized  the  great  eyes  that  were  falling  out  in  her 
excitement  over  the  story  and  the  ice.  She  reached 
Erard  her  left  hand,  in  a  casual  fashion. 

"  Don't  disturb  yourself,  Mr.  Wren,"  she  said  sweetly 
to  the  flabby  companion.  "It's  only  the  new  Parisian 
genius  Mrs.  Wilbur  has  imported,  Mr.  Simeon  Erard. 
He  won't  spend  more  than  two  minutes  on  me,  if  he 
does  that." 

The  young  man  rose  pompously. 

"  Happy  to  meet  you,  Mr.  j&rard,  —  Erard!,  is  it  ?  And 
how  do  you  find  Chicago  ?  " 

"  Very  good  place  as  long  as  it  likes  him,"  Miss  Par 
ker  interposed  maliciously.  "  We  will  give  you  a  lot 
of  new  sensations,"  she  went  on,  "  but  they  won't  always 
be  pleasant." 

"  There  are  some  very  fine  things  here  in  your  line, 
I  believe,"  the  old  young  man  continued  ponderously. 

At  that  moment  Thornton  Jennings  appeared.  Miss 
Parker  promptly  introduced  him  to  Erard.  The  younger 
man  towered  commandingly  over  Erard's  head,  while 
they  shook  hands  without  words,  as  if  measuring  one 
another,  and  recognizing  the  valour  that  each  possessed. 
At  last  Jennings  spoke,  with  a  comprehensive,  winning 
smile  on  his  face. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  141 

"I  am  glad  to  have  had  this  chance.  I  read  your 
articles  in  the  Beaux  Arts,  and  I  have  your  new  book.  I 
have  heard  of  you  through  a  lot  of  people  over  there. 
And  there  is  another  link  between  us,"  he  added  less 
spontaneously,  "your  brother  has  told  me  such  a  lot 
about  your  plans,  and  your  father  —  " 

But  Erard  received  these  cordialities  with  a  stony 
impassivity.  He  was  not  in  a  mood  to  be  reminded  of  his 
antecedents.  Miss  Parker  had  been  right  in  saying  that 
all  his  sensations  in  Chicago  would  not  be  pleasant  ones. 

At  last  the  crowded  rooms  began  to  thin  out.  Supper 
disposed  of,  conversation  did  not  have  sufficient  excite 
ments  to  hold  one  after  midnight  with  a  prospective  drive 
of  perhaps  six  or  eight  miles.  Erard  stood  in  the  hall, 
one  of  the  last  to  say  good-night. 

"  They  are  so  nice,"  he  remarked  to  his  hostess,  "  espe 
cially  the  ladies ;  they  seem  like  such  good  mothers,  so 
homely  and  unpretentious.  I  want  to  sit  right  down 
with  them,  and  talk  over  Mary  and  Jack,  and  the  new 
bay-window,  and  the  clergyman  riding  a  bicycle." 

"You  had  better  not  assume  too  much,"  his  hostess 
laughed.  "  You  will  find  that  they  can  talk  over  the  last 
salon,  the  new  book  on  Kembrandt,  even  your  own  arti 
cles.  Don't  think  you  have  measured  their  horizon  quite 
so  easily." 

"  Well,  I  hope  they  won't  open  up  often  by  asking  me 
which  is  the  '  sacred '  and  which  the  '  profane '  love  in 
Titian's  picture,  as  one  young  woman  did  to-night,"  Erard 
replied  sulkily.  "  I  had  rather  talk  babies." 

"  Have  a  cigar  or  something,  Erard  ?  "  Wilbur  asked, 


142  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

weary  of  this  prolonged  tete-a-t£te,  and  willing  to  pat 
ronize  the  young  man  of  talent  who  had  no  great  house, 
no  good  champagne,  no  successful  feasts  to  give.  Said 
young  man  of  talent  could  come  and  admire  the  other 
kind  of  talent  that  owned  houses,  horses,  and  cham 
pagne,  and  now  and  then,  if  he  were  discreet  in  his 
views,  he  might  be  called  upon  for  dinner  to  enliven  a 
party  of  lethargic  good  folk. 

Erard  looked  at  Wilbur  coolly,  as  if  weighing  the 
chances  of  being  bored  against  the  comforts  of  a  cigar 
and  a  glass  of  hot  whiskey. 

"No,  thanks,"  he  concluded  indifferently.  "I  think 
I  shall  walk  back  some  thousand  blocks  to  the  hotel.  I 
must  be  off  to  arrive  before  breakfast." 

The  family  party  lingered  in  the  library  while  Wilbur 
finished  his  cigar.  Mrs.  Wilbur  flung  herself  wearily 
against  the  wall  on  the  long,  red  divan  where  she  had 
been  seated  when  Erard  entered.  If  he  had  seen  her  now 
with  her  restless  hands  roaming  over  the  large  bunch  of 
drooping  roses,  her  eyes  tired,  not  with  physical  exhaus 
tion,  but  with  the  perpetual  play  of  half-thoughts  that 
sap  vitality  like  dreams,  the  languor  of  the  face  at  the 
time  of  triumph,  he  would  riot  have  said,  —  "  Wait  two 
years." 

"Well,"  Wilbur  broke  the  silence  as  his  wife  offered 
no  remark,  "I  think  our  racket  was  an  A  1  success. 
The  house  looked  fine.  The  music  was  unusual,  and  the 
food  was  stunning." 

"  Yes,"  his  wife  assented.  "  They  seemed  to  enjoy 
themselves." 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  143 

"  Old  Bailey  and  Fernald  were  here  with  their  wives. 
I  didn't  expect  that,"  he  reflected  complacently.  "  But 
the  judge  didn't  come.  Mrs.  Linton  was  here,  and  that 
married  daughter  of  hers.  The  judge  didn't  come, 
though!" 

"Judge  Linton's  rheumatism  confines  him  to  the 
house,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  replied  comfortingly. 

"  Did  you  notice  Mrs.  Stevans's  diamonds  ?  She  is  a 
fine-looking,  well-set-up  woman.  I  had  a  long  talk  with 
her.  She  may  be  a  little  gay,  but  she  has  a  first-rate 
head.  She  was  asking  about  the  Bad  Lands  Company." 

Sebastian  Anthon  sat  near  the  fire  smoking  a  long 
cigarette,  a  habit  he  had  maintained  in  spite  of  the  brick 
interests,  and  eyeing  Wilbur  keenly. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  spoke  languidly,  "  this  is  the  top  of 
the  hill.  You  are  pretty  young  to  have  got  there  already. 
You'll  have  to  spend  the  rest  of  your  life  trying  not  to 
roll  off." 

"It's  a  big  success,  Ady.  I  am  proud  of  you." 
Mrs.  Anthon  crossed  the  room  and  kissed  her  daughter 
effusively.  "You  have  done  everything  just  as  I  would 
have  had  you  do,  —  married  well,  and  had  a  family  "  — 
here  she  prophesied,  except  for  little  Sebastian,  unless  he 
could  be  called  a  "family,"  —  "and  have  this  elegant 
house,  and  —  " 

"  Let  me  show  you  your  room,  uncle !  "  Mrs.  Wilbur 
followed  the  old  man,  who  seemed  to  be  fleeing  from  the 
volubility  of  his  sister-in-law. 

"  It's  so  large  I  lose  myself,"  he  explained  as  his  niece 
put  her  arm  under  his.  "  What  do  you  do  when  you  want 


\ 


144  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

to  be  at  home  and  not  in  a  hotel  ?  Well,  Adela,  I  didn't 
think  the  explosion  would  end  in  this  !  " 

She  looked  at  him  wistfully.     «  Nor  I,  Uncle  Seb ! " 

"  Not  that  it  isn't  quite  what  you  should  do.  But  it 
doesn't  seem  to  suit  you.  Most  things  don't  suit  in  this 
world,  Adela.  We  are  a  lot  of  misfits,  a  lot  of  misfits." 

She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  affectionately. 
"  You  should  have  married  me,  Uncle  Seb !  We  would 
have  exploded  together." 

"  Yes,  that  would  have  been  fun.  How  splendid  you 
are ! "  he  exclaimed  wearily  as  she  turned  on  the  electric 
lights  in  his  suite  of  rooms.  "  Do  you  think  of  water- 
hoister  and  brick  stock  and  Bad  Lands  and  all  your 
other  investments  when  you  lie  in  those  beds?"  He 
noticed  her  sad  eyes,  and  added,  "  You  are  splendid  too, 
little  girl." 

"  No.     I  see  Wrightington  on  the  walls." 

"  Who  the  devil  is  Wrightington  ?  " 

But  she  had  hastily  left  the  room.  When  she  re 
turned  to  the  library,  Mrs.  Anthon  went  yawningly  to 
her  chamber,  leaving  husband  and  wife  alone.  Suddenly 
Mrs.  Wilbur  asked  him,  "  Are  you  content  with  it  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course.  Who  would  have  thought  four  years 
ago  in  Paris  that  we  should  be  sitting  here ! "  He  con 
tinued  rather  fatuously  on  the  theme  of  their  success. 
He  was  thirty-three,  and  he  had  done  better  than  very 
well.  To  be  sure,  he  had  had  his  wife's  little  capital  as 
well  as  his  own  push  in  the  Hoister  Company,  and  he 
always  paid  full  recognition  to  her  share  in  their  fort 
une.  To-night  he  had  demonstrated  publicly  what  he 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  145 

could  do.  As  lie  finished  his  cigar  and  rose  to  put  out 
the  lights,  he  observed  casually,  — 

"  Adela,  I  thought  you  toted  that  Erard  round  a  good 
deal.  Why  can't  you  let  him  do  his  own  pushing  ?  If 
he  were  a  first-rate  gun,  a  Whistler  or  a  Sargent,  or  what 
is  that  fellow  Mrs.  Stevans  had,  Raf —  Raffelly —  it 
would  be  worth  while.  But  we  can't  shove  him  on  our 
shoulders  all  the  time.  And  I  think  you  ought  to  drop 
supporting  him.  It  would  not  be  a  very  fine  thing  to 
have  known  around." 

The  last  remark  revealed  one  of  Wilbur's  new  social 
anxieties  which  were  puzzling  to  his  wife. 

"It  is  a  curious  convention,"  she  observed  bitterly, 
"that  a  woman  may  be  intimate  with  her  husband's 
friends,  but  must  not  even  pretend  to  know  her  own 
unless  the  husband  has  indorsed  them.  The  four  hun 
dred  pounds  I  have  paid  to  Erard's  bankers  has  always 
come  from  my  private  fortune." 

"If  you  put  it  on  that  ground,"  Wilbur  answered 
airily,  and  then  indulgently,  "  you  have  always  had  your 
own  way,  and  if  you  don't  mind  the  false  position  —  " 

Mrs.  Wilbur  looked  at  him.  Men  like  Wilbur,  en 
dowed  with  the  best  intentions  and  the  invaluable  quali 
ties  which  perpetuate  a  democracy,  should  know  when  to 
refrain  in  handling  women. 

"  This  talk  about  Mr.  Erard  is  —  too  vulgar.  I  shall 
ask  him  to  luncheon  here  to-morrow  to  arrange  for 
his  lectures.  And  I  will  find  an  opportunity  to  withdraw 
my  —  my  assistance  in  his  work." 

She  turned  away  into  the  hall.     The  house  was   all 

L 


146  THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 


dark  now  save  for  the  glimmer  of  a  gas-jet  in  the  lower 
hall.  The  warm  air,  scented  by  the  profuse  hot-house 
flowers,  made  a  peculiar  odour  that  permeated  even  to  the 
bedchambers.  The  place  seemed  tomb-like  in  its  dark 
expanse  of  vacant  rooms.  The  suggestion  of  the  tomb 
made  the  mistress  smile  grimly:  a  tomb  that  had  to 
be  carried  on  and  lived  in  by  the  ghosts  of  the  living. 
And  what  made  the  gates  of  this  modern  tomb  so 
intangible,  so  strong  to  enclose?  Nothing,  yet  every 
thing. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MEANWHILE  Erard,  in  company  with  Molly  Parker, 
whom  he  had  offered  to  escort  around  the  corner,  had 
gained  the  silent  boulevard.  The  arc-lights  cast  circular 
patches  of  bluish  white  on  the  gravel  walks  and  the 
frosty  lawns  before  the  big  houses.  The  line  of  electric 
lamps  extended,  like  a  citified  milky  way,  into  the  indefi 
nite  distance  of  the  metropolis,  which  slept  now  for  a  few 
minutes.  Above  hung  the  soft  edges  of  the  smoke-pall. 

"  Ugh ! "  shivered  Erard.  "  It  is  beastly  empty,  this 
never-ending  city  of  yours.  Down  one  of  these  straight 
perpetual  streets  one  might  expect  to  be  chased  by  an 
army  of  ghosts.  If  I  saw  a  man  in  the  distance  —  " 

"You  needn't  be  afraid,"  his  companion  interrupted 
lightly.  "To  be  sure,  there  are  a  good  many  < hold 
ups  '  on  the  streets.  A  man  was  almost  killed  on  that 
corner  a  month  ago,  and  all  he  had  was  seventy-five 
cents.  But  if  any  one  comes,  I  will  scream,  and  you  can 
run  to  the  nearest  house  for  assistance." 

Suddenly  Miss  Parker  whisked  around  the  corner  of 
a  vacant  lot  into  a  cross  street  as  desolate  as  it  was 
lonely.  The  defective  boarding  of  the  rotting  plank 
walk  necessitated  gingerly  progress. 

"  This  new  cosmopolis  has  been  in  such  a  hurry  that 
it  has  neglected  to  make  its  toilette,"  Erard  remarked. 

147 


148  THE    GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"  I  wish  that  you  hadn't  come  to  Chicago ! "  Miss 
Parker  flamed  out. 

"  Why  !  I  am  a  most  perfervid  admirer  of  all  I  have 
seen  except  the  lonely  stretches  in  the  streets  and  the 
holes  in  the  sidewalks." 

"  You  are  only  amusing  yourself  and  getting  material 
for  a  bundle  of  epigrams.  You  haven't  any  sympathy  or 
understanding.  I  hate  to  see  you  using  your  eye-glass 
on  the  people  who  made  all  this  and  are  making  it ! " 

"  Am  I  so  lost  ? "  Erard  replied  with  an  amused 
laugh. 

"You  people  in  art  and  lovers  of  new  ideas  really 
talk  a  lot  of  nonsense.  I  have  heard  enough  of  it  to 
know.  But  here  we  are.  Thank  you  for  your  escort, 
and  good-night." 

Erard  turned  back  to  the  boulevard.  Plunging  his 
hands  into  his  pockets  and  tying  the  hood  of  his  cape  over 
his  head,  he  prepared  for  a  long  tramp  through  the 
silent  city.  On,  on  he  sauntered,  at  the  loitering  pace  of 
a  Parisian,  past  the  huge  isolated  houses  with  tidy  front 
walks  of  patented  concrete,  each  block  squared  artificially 
to  resemble  stone,  but  carrying  somewhere  the  tell-tale 
firm-mark  in  brass ;  past  the  narrow  wedges  of  high 
apartment  houses,  faced  with  pretentious  stone  and 
finished  in  the  frank  homeliness  of  unburnt  brick,  with 
scaffolded  ends  looming  barrack-like  in  the  alleys ;  past 
the  rows  of  low  brick  stores,  built  out  like  booths  from  the 
old  line  of  retiring  wood-cottages.  This  section  of  com 
promise  between  business  and  home  was  most  disfiguring 
of  all  in  its  ragged  expression.  Erard  felt  relieved  when 


THE    GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  149 

the  square  fronts  of  the  business  blocks  began  to  loom 
up  in  the  fog  and  smoke  of  the  lower  city.  Here  an 
enormous  windowless  wall  of  an  armoury ;  next  door  the 
thin  sides  of  a  carriage  factory ;  further  on  the  spidery 
lines  of  a  hotel.  Thus  for  two  miles  until  the  sky 
scrapers  towered  in  the  chill  fog. 

"  Superb,  superb/'  he  murmured  to  himself.  "  I  must 
have  walked  five  miles,  and  not  a  building,  not  a  dog- 
hutch,  where  there  is  an  idea  expressed  beyond  size, 
convenience,  and  either  the  possession  of  money  or  the 
desire  for  it.  It  is  a  new  race,  a  new  world." 

It  had  roused  his  curiosity,  this  Chicago,  from  the 
first  peep  he  had  had  on  the  train  of  the  roaring  city. 
Miss  Parker  was  quite  wrong  in  imagining  him  hostile  to 
the  place  or  its  people.  He  was  wondering  over  them 
perpetually,  as  a  man  would  wonder  who  is  enabled  by 
a  powerful  lens  to  take  into  his  consciousness  a  new 
planet  where  he  finds  that  his  ideas  of  propriety  have 
been  entirely  reversed.  Such  a  novel  discovery  could 
cause  in  him  neither  pain  nor  pleasure.  If  some  one 
should  come  along  the  shore  of  this  new  world  and 
bellow  at  him  that  he  was  beholding  the  last  utter 
ance  of  creation,  he  would  laugh  good-humouredly  at 
the  newcomer's  provinciality. 

What  a  pother  they  made,  these  women  especially, 
over  duties  and  enjoyments !  His  certainties  were  hard 
and  sure,  thank  God !  An  exquisite  curve,  a  subtle 
mixture  of  colour  in  a  landscape,  the  power  expressed 
in  a  moulded  limb,  or  the  richness  of  a  flesh  tint  —  that 
sent  his  blood  rushing  a  little  faster,  gave  him  a  fuller 


150  THE  GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM 

sense  of  actual  existence.  He  sneered  at  all  transcen 
dental  or  religious  interpretation  of  these  pleasures.  He 
was  willing  to  place  his  delight  in  the  woman  of  paint 
along  with  the  delights  that  a  merely  sensual  and  gross 
man  might  find  in  the  same  woman.  His  were  more 
delicate,  more  lingering  sensations  —  that  was  all.  In 
the  same  way  he  was  willing  to  grant  the  business  man 
his  sphere  —  let  him  be  a  gourmand  of  action  ;  or  the 
religious  man,  his  emotion  over  the  fate  of  the  world. 
But  beyond  the  sensation  —  whatever  it  might  be  — 
nothing.  Only  stupid,  crude  people  or  hypocrites  pre 
tended  there  was  a  beyond. 

And  so  Adela  Wilbur  gave  him  no  romantic  excite 
ment.  She  was  an  interesting  combination  of  nerves. 
Possibly  she  would  find  out,  after  trying  life  all  round, 
that  her  greatest  vitality  came  through  cultivating  her 
aesthetic  sensorium.  If  she  did,  he  could  be  of  help  to 
her.  That  such  a  discovery  at  this  point  might  produce 
a  smash,  some  turmoil  in  the  affections  and  relationships 
of  life,  did  not  concern  him.  This  was  a  jarring  world, 
—  one  must  expect  to  dodge  boulders,  —  but  to  consider 
the  boulders,  even  when  they  were  so-called  duties  and 
affections,  that  was  stupid.  It  was  a  pity  that  she 
hadn't  found  out  earlier  what  was  best  for  her,  that 
she  should  go  blundering  about  with  her  fine  powers. 
Four  years  ago  he  had  thought  her  too  raw ;  had,  indeed, 
advised  her  to  do  just  what  she  had  done  —  and  possibly 
found  tedious.  If  she  should  seek  his  opinion  again, 
however,  he  should  tell  her  to  start  once  more,  with  her 
eyes  open. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  151 

Erard  was  not  without  the  male  satisfaction  in  bearing 
rule  over  women.  Other  men,  he  reflected,  would  have 
exulted  at  the  thought  of  her  beautiful  self,  at  the 
mystery  of  her  restless  face,  —  but  he  was  tranquil  over 
mere  flesh  and  blood.  He  preferred  to  own  her  mind, 
rather  than  her  person.  The  delight  of  binding  her  will, 
of  leading  her  across  the  laws  of  convention,  of  conquer 
ing  her,  was  keener  to  him  than  any  vulgar  emotion  of 
possession. 

His  revery  was  disturbed  by  the  night-clerk  in  the 
hotel,  who  handed  him  his  key,  with  a  confidential  leer. 

"  You've  made  a  night  of  it,  sir." 

"  Now,"  Erard  mused,  "  her  crowd  have  the  same  ideas 
as  this  smart  young  fellow.  They  suspect  I  want  to  run 
away  with  Mrs.  Wilbur  in  a  buggy.  That  was  what  the 
little  Parker  wanted  to  say  to  me." 

"There's  a  young  fellow  been  hanging  around  here 
for  you  most  of  the  night,"  the  clerk  continued.  "  He 
was  over  there  by  the  window." 

Erard  turned  sharply,  scowling.  But  the  young  man 
had  gone.  As  he  entered  the  elevator,  he  muttered. 

"But  it  is  about  time  to  close  money  matters  with  her." 

The  next  day  at  luncheon  Erard  had  a  better  opportu 
nity  to  study  Mrs.  Wilbur.  Sebastian  Anthon,  who  was 
developing  the  irritability  of  age,  had  held  that  there 
was  no  peace  in  Chicago,  and  hearing  that  Erard  was 
expected  for  luncheon  he  had  slipped  away  home.  Mrs. 
Anthon  had  remained  at  Field's  absorbed  in  shopping. 
So  the  two  were  left  to  themselves. 


152  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

Erard  was  delighted  with  this  morning  view  of  Mrs. 
Wilbur,  — her  serious  face  alert,  her  rich  dark  dress  fit 
ting  close  to  the  white  neck  and  curling  hair.  She  gave 
him  a  charming  sensation  of  being  a  woman,  neither  a 
girl  nor  a  case  in  social  psychology.  He  would  like  to 
paint  her  again  as  she  sat,  her  luncheon  untouched, 
eagerly  outlining  her  scheme  for  the  lectures.  He  also 
appreciated  the  capable  manner  in  which  she  treated  the 
social  and  financial  sides  of  the  affair. 

After  luncheon,  she  took  him.  into  her  private  library. 
The  portrait,  he  noticed,  had  been  removed.  When  the 
lecture-course  had  been  settled,  Mrs.  Wilbur  led  the  talk 
to  his  work. 

"Of  course,"  she  remarked  abruptly,  "I  understood 
your  plans  only  generally  when  we  talked  about  them  in 
Paris.  But  I  have  been  thinking  a  lot  about  your  paint 
ing  less.  It  has  made  me  sad.  Almost  like  losing  one  of 
my  own  faculties.7' 

Erard  hastened  to  extenuate  his  course,  and  ended 
lightly.  "You  have  stood  by  me  four  years  almost. 
Now  I  think  I  can  go  it  alone,  as  you  would  say  over 
here." 

Mrs.  Wilbur,  remembering  with  a  start  her  promise 
to  her  husband,  felt  relieved,  yet  protested  until  Erard 
explained  that  his  writings  brought  him  a  small  income. 
He  did  not  state  that  the  amount  thus  received  was  not 
large  enough  to  keep  him  in  cigarettes  and  note-paper. 
She  was  grateful  to  him  for  having  saved  them  both 
from  an  unpleasant  topic,  which  must  have  left  sordid 
reflections. 


THE  GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  153 

"  And  your  book."  Mrs.  Wilbur  continued.  "  It  was 
impossible  over  here  to  follow  you  closely.  One  grows 
so  rusty  in  a  few  months,  not  seeing  things  to  train  the 
eye.  Then  the  importance  of  a  new  Liberale  or  Mazo 
seems  less  vital  here  than  one  might  expect.'7 

That  led  them  on  into  a  long  talk,  in  which  Mrs. 
Wilbur  betrayed  with  less  and  less  restraint  her  irrita 
tion  with  her  environment,  her  disgust  with  "  drawing- 
room  art,"  and  with  democratic  ideals  and  joys.  Erard 
amused  himself  by  gaily  defending  her  old  aspirations. 
"  You  should  go  in  for  immense  charities,  civic  organi 
zations,  education — and  the  rest  of  the  housekeeping 
for  the  '  people.'  We  over  there,"  he  tweaked  his  head 
in  the  direction  of  Lake  Michigan,  "are  nearly  played 
out.  They  will  either  smash  all  the  good  buildings,  or 
pull  them  down  piecemeal  in  the  process  of  '  restor 
ing  ' ;  the  pictures  will  be  gone  in  another  hundred 
years  —  there's  almost  nothing  that  is  original  paint 
now  left  on  the  old  masters.  Sculpture  will  be  locked 
up  safely  in  museums  for  archaeologists.  And  Science 
—  that  refuge  for  the  commonplace  mind — will  reign 
supreme  in  a  mighty  democracy.  Science  will  then  go 
forth  with  its  tin  dinner-pail,  the  emblem  of  equality, 
not  annoyed  by  the  twaddle  of  sentimentalists  like  you 
and  me.  Decidedly,  you  should  get  in  line  with  your 
times." 

"Don't  sneer  at  me,  please.  I  could  make  every  sac 
rifice —  almost  —  for  something  beautiful.  One  great 
valley,  all  green  at  its  feet,  with  a  barrier  of  hills  in 
the  clouds  and  snow,  or  just  one  peaceful  old  English 


154  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

field  with  a  lot  of  trees.  Or  a  sight  of  that  —  this  is  so 
silly  !  "  She  felt  as  if  tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

"  No,"  Erard  paused,  leaning  over  the  back  of  a  chair 
and  searching  her  face.  "That  is  the  distressing  part 
of  us  Americans ;  we  all  apologize  for  such  emotions,  as 
if  we  should  be  ashamed  of  having  them." 

"I  shall  not  have  them  long.  I  am  a  woman  and 
take  on  the  colour  of  my  habitation." 

"You  are  a  woman  and  will  die  hard  —  unless  you 
make  a  dash  for  the  open  air,  for  freedom."  He 
spoke  tranquilly,  with  calculation.  Mrs.  Wilbur  started 
as  though  he  had  blundered  upon  a  secret,  not  confessed 
even  to  herself. 

"Freedom!  I  have  been  making  disturbances  all  my 
life  to  be  free.  And  what  have  I  done?  I  am  not 
worth  it." 

"  Some  people  must  get  their  freedom,  no  matter  how 
they  take  it!" 

"  It  isn't  merely  the  art,  or  the  excitement  of  intel 
lectual  life,  which  I  crave  so  much.  There  are  other 
things  no  one  can  know.  I  am  sinking,  sinking  —  " 

"  Why  struggle  so  f  utilely  ?  Isn't  there  a  simpler,  more 
direct  way  ?  "  Erard  fixed  his  eyes  on  her  face  while 
he  made  his  proposal  of  mastership.  Mrs.  Wilbur 
flushed  slowly  without  speaking.  He  continued  after 
a  momentary  pause,  "  If  you  crave  the  other  life."  And 
the  silence  seemed  to  say,  if  you  would  consent  to  the 
..adultery  of  minds ;  if  you  would  become  once  more 
my  follower,  my  pupil.  "This  is  mephitic  for  some 
people,  you  and  me  for  example,"  Erard  went  on  slowly, 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  155 

"who  have  the  necessity  to  think  and   feel,  who  care 
only  for  thought  and  feeling." 

How  far  her  pent-up  soul  would  have  pushed  her  it  is 
hard  to  say,  if  Molly  Parker,  looking  about  the  house  for 
Mrs.  Wilbur,  had  not  found  them  at  this  juncture,  with 
intent,  serious  faces,  flushed  with  their  talk.  She  slipped 
over  to  her  friend,  and  taking  the  earnest  face  daintily 
between  her  hands,  kissed  it  here  and  there. 

"Getting  yourself  all  fussed  up  over  art  and  emo 
tions,"  she  commented  with  imperturbable  freedom. 
"  You  don't  know  that  there's  been  a  great  fire  over  in 
the  stockyards  district;  burned  out  four  blocks.  A 
whole  village  full  of  people  are  homeless.  You  can  still 
see  the  light  in  the  sky  from  the  west  windows." 

From  the  dining-room  windows  the  angry  glow  against 
the  dull  sky  seemed  only  a  few  blocks  away.  Now  and 
then  a  stream  of  full-bodied,  serpentlike  fire  leapt  up 
to  lick  a  stretch  of  wall  still  standing.  Then  as  a  black 
stream  of  water  fell  on  the  fire,  there  was  a  momentary 
darkness  until  the  caldron  light  from  the  interior  shot 
the  ascending  smoke  and  steam  with  a  lovely,  controlled 
glow. 

"  It  looks  so  near,"  Molly  Parker  shivered.  "  Oh  I 
the  poor  people ! " 

"  It  must  be  four  miles  away,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  answered. 

"Rebellious  nature,"  murmured  Erard,  glancing  at 
Mrs.  Wilbur.  "  An  uncaged  element  goes  roaring  f orth, 
hotly  devouring  the  idle  works  of  man." 

"A  year  ago,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  remarked,  "when  thei 
strikers  set  fire  to  the  cars  on  the  Panhandle  tracks, 


156  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

it  was  more  awful.  It  was  a  hot  July  night  and  the 
city  had  been  lowering  all  day;  no  one  knew  what 
might  happen.  Suddenly  at  dusk  the  whole  horizon 
flamed  up  with  a  fierce  streak  of  red.  Imagine  the 
mobs  of  men  and  women  hooting  about  the  flaming  cars 
and  the  soldiers  driving  them  back.  Such  terrible  naked 
passions  came  to  the  surface !  " 

"  Yes,"  Molly  Parker  assented.  "  I  never  knew  before 
how  necessary  it  is  for  us  all  to  behave  ourselves ;  how 
little  it  would  need  to  smash  this  civilization  we  take 
for  granted." 

"  Chicago  had  a  chance  to  see  what  democracy  really 

I  is,"  Erard  scoffed.     "  It's  like  dynamite.     Everything  is 

I  placid  until  you  drop  it ;  then  there  is  an  upheaval  and 

the  sky  gets  lurid.     The  question  is  how  much  of  this 

social  dynamite  you  can  carry  without  dropping  it." 

"  I  can't  see  what  Chicago  has  to  do  with  it,"  Molly 
Parker  retorted  defiantly. 

"  Only  that  there  is  rather  more  dynamite  here  than 
in  most  places.  The  average  man  is  your  tin-god. 
When  some  day  there  are  too  many  average  men,  and 
they  all  think  stupidly  that  they  have  the  same  rights 
to  an  average  kind  of  easy  living,  why,  you're  going  to 
have  a  portentous  row,  for  a  democracy  is  at  the  bottom 
irreligious  and  unidealistic.  The  'people'  will  not 
starve  patiently  and  pathetically  while  the  successful 
neighbour  builds  his  palace." 

"  Well,"  Miss  Parker  announced  finally,  "  the  less  talk 
about  it  the  better.  I  guess  Chicago  will  find  a  way  out 
of  its  troubles.  And  I  like  the  men  who  put  their  shoul- 


THE   GOSPEL   OP  FREEDOM  157 

ders  to  the  democratic  wheel ;  it's  the  only  one  that  goes 
to-day  anyhow." 

Erard  laughed  indifferently.  The  smoke  was  rolling  up 
now  a  purple  black,  shot  occasionally  with  cardinal  red. 

"I  believe  I  will  wander  over  there.  I  should  like 
to  get  the  effect  of  that  tawny  colour  near  at  hand." 

When  he  had  left  them  Miss  Parker  broke  out  impa 
tiently,  tapping  her  foot  against  the  floor. 

"  Such  an  inhuman  way  to  take  things !  To  watch 
that  awful  fire  merely  to  get  a  sensation  in  reds  and 
blacks !  He  would  come  to  my  funeral  just  to  see  the 
effect  of  the  black  coffin,  the  green  sward,  and  the  minis 
ter's  white  gown.  He  makes  me  think  of  a  mushy  green 
caterpillar,  stuffed  out  with  nice  sensations,  improperly 
assimilated.  There  he  goes  down  Forty-fourth  street, 
picking  his  way  and  squinting  at  the  houses." 

"  You  shouldn't  begrudge  anybody  a  glimpse  of  beauty 
here  in  Chicago,  even  if  it  takes  four  blocks  and  a  million 
to  make  it,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  laughed  in  a  hard,  set  manner. 
"  We  were  talking  about  that  —  what  sacrifices  to  make 
for  the  mind  and  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  —  when  you 
came  in." 

Molly  Parker  seized  her  hand  impulsively. 

"Adela,  don't,  —  don't  indulge  yourself  in  sentiment 
of  that  sort." 

"What?" 

"  About  being  unhappy  here  in  this  strong  new  world. 
You  have  chosen  to  live  here,  and  you  have  shown  how 
able  you  are.  Do  let  yourself  be  happy."  She  glanced 
involuntarily  at  the  rich  room. 


158  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"I  hate  it,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  said  coldly,  noticing  her 
glance.  "But  how  stirred  up  you  are.  I  am  not  con 
templating  anything  desperate." 

"  You  will.  You  are  just  the  kind  to  shock  the  whole 
world,  to  make  yourself  wretched  for  life  and  your 
friends  too,  because  you  have  worked  yourself  into  some 
exalted  fancy.  Why  can't  you  drop  problems  and  sen 
sations  and  the  ends  of  life  —  and  live  like  a  good  human 
being  from  hour  to  hour.  Sometime  you  will  find  that 
in  your  anxiety  to  get  just  the  best,  you  have  lost  even 
the  common  good.  Here  is  your  house,  your  child,  your 
husband  —  " 

"Yes,"  the  older  woman  agreed  wearily.  "Why  do 
I  make  such  a  fuss  ?  Why  do  you  and  the  others  bother 
about  me  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  because  we  love  you.  You  don't  deserve 
it,  but  there  it  is,  the  mystery.  Your  friends  are 
anxious  that  you  should  have  all  the  bothers  taken 
away,  that  you  should  be  at  your  best  and  happy." 

"  My  friends  !     They  had  better  give  up  trying." 

"  Your  Uncle  Sebastian,  Mr.  Jennings,  and  I  —  " 

"  Thornton  Jennings ! "  Mrs.  Wilbur  repeated  the 
name  wistfully.  "  There  is  a  soul  —  I  haven't  seen  him 
for  weeks." 

"Promise  me  that  you  will  let  me  know  if  you  ever 
think  of  doing  anything  desperate." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  laughed 'and  kissed  her.  "I'll  take  you 
along  too,  to  look  after  me." 

While  they  made  ready  for  the  dinner-party  of  the 
evening,  the  talk  ran  on  in  the  commonplace  channels  of 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  159 

dress  and  dinner  guests.  Mrs.  Wilbur's  face  cleared,  and 
she  became  that  object  rarely  seen  of  men,  —  a  woman's 
woman  absorbed  in  trivialities.  From  dress  they  got  to 
the  kindergarten,  to  Molly's  latest  suitors,  —  especially 
to  Thornton  Jennings.  Him  they  discussed  from  every 
point  of  view,  Molly  detailing  bits  of  conversation,  his 
personal  habits,  gossip  about  him  by  other  women.  All 
the  odds  and  ends  which,  unknown  to  a  man,  go  to  make 
the  picture  he  presents  to  the  woman  of  his  adoration. 

"I  don't  know  him!"  the  younger  woman  exclaimed 
at  last.  "  How  is  this,  Adela,  bien  porte  ?  "  She  shook 
herself  into  her  evening  dress.  "When  he  begins  to 
make  love  I  shall  know,  —  it  would  be  nicer  if  they  had 
made  the  skirt  the  least  bit  fuller.'?'' 

"  I  don't  think  so,  but  if  you  want,  Jane  can  let  it  out. 
John  says  Ikel  and  Wren  are  awfully  clever  and  success 
ful." 

"  One  doesn't  marry  a  man's  brains  altogether,  —  yes, 
do  send  Jane,  —  one  runs  off  with  clever  men." 

They  could  hear  already  the  slight  commotion  of  the 
household,  preparing  itself  for  the  function  of  the  day. 
Mrs.  Wilbur  at  last  hurried  away  to  her  own  dressing- 
room. 

There  was  talk  that  night  at  dinner  of  the  fire  and  the 
severe  loss  it  meant  to  Packington  ;  of  the  new  tariff  bill, 
which  was  dragging  its  soiled  body  tediously  through  the 
weeks  ;  of  the  tremulous  condition  of  the  money  market : 
and,  among  the  women  sitting  lethargically  over  coffee  in 
the  library,  some  gossip  of  the  coming  lectures,  of  Calve's 
latest  escapade,  and  lastly  of  the  difficulties  of  English 


160  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

men-servants.  Mrs.  Wilbur's  mind  wandered  back  to 
Erard  and  the  interrupted  talk  of  the  afternoon.  Even 
the  money  market,  with  the  prospect  of  another  hard 
year  threatened  by  the  scandalous  ignorance  of  a  number 
of  irresponsible  little  men  at  Washington,  could  not  seem 
to  her  as  vital  as  the  strange  evening  glow  in  a  half- 
faded  picture  that  hung  in  a  room  four  thousand  miles 
away.  Until  that  glow  faded  entirely  from  the  lovely 
fields,  and  the  warm  flesh  tints  of  the  naked  figures 
went  out  altogether  into  the  darkness  of  unconceived 
things,  there  would  exist  in  the  world  a  comforting, 
happy  idea  for  all  who  passed  that  way  heedingly. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  lectures  went  admirably.  Mrs.  Wilbur's  house 
was  crowded  every  Wednesday  morning  for  the  eight 
weeks  of  the  course  with  "the  most  prominent  and  fash 
ionable  leaders  among  Chicago  women."  The  new  house 
did  something  to  attract;  the  lecturer  himself  more, 
having  the  skill  to  hold  the  curiosity  of  his  audience 
with  his  novel  point  of  view,  while  he  tickled  the  sensi 
bilities  of  the  most  intelligent.  Then  the  gossip  about 
Erard's  old  intimacy  with  Mrs.  Wilbur  added  sauce  to 
the  affair.  Given  that  basis  for  elaboration  in  any  other^ 
great  city,  an  acrid  scandal  would  have  fermented  rap 
idly  ;  Chicago  was  sensible  and  tolerant.  For  the  irra-. 
tionality  of  any  serious  entanglement  between  the  clever, 
prosperous,  and  rising  Mrs.  Wilbur  and  the  personally 
unprepossessing  and  penniless  young  man,  who  in  pro 
fessional  standing  was  rather  like  a  dancing-master,  was 
too  apparent  to  need  statement. 

As  the  lectures  drew  to  a  close,  other  matters  occupied 
Mrs.  Wilbur's  attention.  Her  child  gave  her  anxiety. 
Then  a  letter  from  her  Uncle  Sebastian,  a  pathetic 
arrangement  of  his  affairs  on  paper,  had  disturbed  her. 
A  telegram  from  St.  Louis  summoned  her  the  eve  of  the 
last  lecture.  She  hurried  away  with  a  forlorn  feeling 
at  the  heart.  Somehow  Uncle  Sebastian,  sparing  of 
M  161 


162  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

words  as  he  had  been,  was  a  pillar  of  sympathy.  How 
much  alone  she  should  be  without  him  ! 

She  found  him  very  feeble  —  placid  as  ever,  with  an 
increased  distance  of  abstraction  in  his  face.  He  smiled 
on  seeing  her,  and  the  next  day  collected  himself  enough 
to  say  something  about  his  affairs. 

"You  will  have  most  of  it  —  a  respectable  fortune." 
Later  he  said  with  a  sigh,  "I've  had  misgivings  about 
Erard,  —  the  way  I  treated  him.  Perhaps  I  drove  him 
to  give  up  doing  anything  worth  while." 

His  niece  comprehended  this  wistful  thought,  and  the 
desire  to  give  Erard  help  even  if  he  should  make 
nothing  of  himself.  As  the  old  man  got  ready  to  die, 
the  eternal  desirability  of  success,  of  making  a  stir  in 
this  patchy  world  of  ours,  seemed  less  self-evident.  To 
know  something  beautiful,  to  make  others  know  it, — 
best  of  all  to  create  a  new  beautiful  thing,  a  bit  of 
colour,  a  union  of  tones,  a  fine  line,  that  was  perhaps  the 
only  solace  for  much  pain. 

Mrs.  Anthon  had  taken  her  brother-in-law  in  hand 
more  vigorously  since  her  daughter's  marriage.  And  at 
seventy  Sebastian  Anthon  felt  that  it  was  hardly  worth 
while  to  protest  against  his  environment.  He  had  com 
promised  with  himself  for  his  life  of  ineffective  respect 
ability  by  leaving  his  money  largely  to  his  niece,  whom  he 
regarded  as  the  most  enlightened  member  of  his  family. 

"You  can  throw  it  away  somehow,"  he  explained, 
weakly. 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  answered  soothingly,  "  I  will  help 
people  to  explode,  and  /  will  see  that  he  — " 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  163 

"  No,  you  cannot  do  anything  for  him  now." 

Later  he  raised  himself  enough  to  say  querulously, 
"  Why  did  you  marry  Wilbur  ?  " 

She  smiled  sadly. 

"  But  it  will  be  your  money,  not  Wilbur's.  And  per 
haps,"  an  amused  and  slightly  wicked  smile  crept  over 
his  face,  "there  will  not  always  be  a  Wilbur."  That 
seemed  to  be  his  hope  in  leaving  her  this  money. 

Then  he  had  been  content  to  lie  without  speaking,  his 
hand  resting  in  hers.  A  few  hours  later,  when  he  had 
died,  she  fancied  that  the  face,  instead  of  looking  at  her 
emptily,  spoke  again  frankly.  "There  are  few  great 
things  in  this  troublesome  life.  Don't  live  to  be  old 
and  miss  them."  She  kissed  the  white  cheek  and  left 
him  to  sleep  undistracted  and  appeased. 

Her  anxiety  for  her  child  made  her  leave  immediately 
after  the  funeral.  A  few  days  later  she  received  an 
account  of  the  will.  The  only  item  she  found  much 
interest  in  was  a  legacy  to  Molly  Parker  —  a  thousand 
a  year  to  add  to  her  tiny  income.  "  Dear  old  uncle,"  she 
thought,  "  he  knew  she  would  like  it  best  just  this  way 
from  his  hand,  not  mine." 

Every  thought  now  centred  on  the  little  Sebastian ;  her 
child  seemed  a  refuge,  the  remnant  of  her  former  life. 
He  bound  her  to  her  husband,  to  the  pledges  she  had 
made,  and  she  could  not  contemplate  a  future  without 
that  bond.  All  her  rebellion  over  the  child's  coming 
maddened  her.  How  futile  she  had  been!  Through 
him,  she  was  responsible  to  a  world  that  had  some  ele 
ments  of  gracious  affection  in  it.  So  she  passed  the 


164  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

days  in  a  hush,  where  every  breath  from  the  feeble  little 
body  sounded  separately  in  her  ears  and  sent  a  twinge  of 
pain  and  reproach  into  her  whole  being.  She  could  ffot 
cry  over  it — that  was  not  her  way;  she  could  see  people 
and  carry  about  a  cold,  impassive  face.  Her  hardness 
frightened  Molly  Parker. 

"  Don't  you  care  ?  "  she  exclaimed  impulsively,  bluntly. 

"  Care  ?  "  The  word  echoed  back  as  if  sounded  from 
her  whole  tense  being.  "It  is  most  myself  that  is 
going."  But  her  husband  was  puzzled  to  find  her  so 
"unfeeling." 

One  windy  afternoon  in  the  early  spring  she  came  to 
the  library  and  led  him,  with  a  firm  step,  to  the  child's 
room,  where  they  sat  without  speaking  until  the  low 
breathing  ceased  with  a  flutter. 

"It  is  over,"  she  explained,  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice. 
She  took  a  little  shawl  and  laid  it  softly  over  the  child 
as  if  it  might  be  cold.  Then  she  rested  the  head  gently 
on  the  pillow  and  stood  quietly  looking  at  her  child. 

"Adela."  Wilbur  had  put  an  arm  about  her  waist 
to  comfort  her.  His  eyes  were  wet.  She  looked  at  him 
blankly,  wonderingly. 

"  It  is  over,"  she  repeated  slowly,  looking  back  at  the 
child.  Then  disentangling  herself  from  her  husband's 
arm  she  said  "  Come,"  and  opened  the  door. 

Wilbur  followed,  amazed  and  hurt,  feeling  that  his 
attempts  to  be  near  her  in  their  trouble  had  been  repulsed. 
Her  mood  was  the  same  the  next  day  when  he  had  kissed 
her  and  spoken  hopefully  of  the  life  that  was  yet  before 
them.  If  bereaved  now,  checked  in  their  full  tide  of 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  165 

possession,  why,  the  years  would  bring  them  other  chil 
dren.  Theirs  was  a  common  grief. 

She  had  looked  at  him  vacantly,  as  if  he  had  been 
talking  of  an  outsider,  or  some  small  possession  that  had 
been  and  now  was  gone  to  be  replaced  by  another.  "It 
is  over,"  she  repeated,  "  gone."  She  wondered  if  he  could 
understand  that  some  things  went,  never  to  return. 

Thus  he  had  his  grief,  a  good,  honest  grief,  his  tears 
and  his  sentiment  over  his  firstborn.  Then  hopeful 
physical  sanity,  the  round  of  living,  obliterated  the  slight 
scar.  But  the  event  left  him  with  a  sore,  puzzled  feel 
ing  over  his  wife.  She  had  been  growing  so  stately,  so 
cold  and  forbidding.  Tucked  away  in  his  mind  was  a 
memory  of  the  talk  at  Eemsen's,  and  something  told  him 
that  his  trouble  dated  from  that  night. 

He  was  wrong.  It  dated  some  generations  back,  and 
it  mattered  little  when  the  breach  declared  itself.  It  was 
there,  and  widening  in  little  ways.  It  was  a  relief  to 
him  when,  a  few  weeks  after  the  child's  death,  his  wife 
brought  about  a  business  talk. 

"  You  know  Uncle  Seb  left  me  almost  all  his  money  ?  " 
Wilbur  nodded. 

"It's  in  bricks,  and  for  some  personal  reasons  I  don't 
think  I  care  to  disturb  it.  It  might  have  been  for  the 
child,  you  know,  and  now  it  can  lie  until  I  see  my  way 
to  using  it.  But  I  should  like  to  use  my  own  fortune,  if 
you  can  convert  the  investments  to  cash." 

Wilbur  waited  attentively.  He  was  preparing  to 
leave  for  his  office:  the  brougham  was  standing  out 
side  on  the  clean  white  flags. 


166  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"I  should  like  to  turn  over  to  you  just  what  this 
place  cost,  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  wasn't  it? 
If  there  is  anything  left  of  my  fortune,  you  can  put  it  to 
my  credit." 

"  Buy  the  house  ?  "  Wilbur  asked,  puzzled. 

"Yes,  —  if  you  have  no  objections." 

"  I  planned  to  give  it  to  you  clear  of  all  mortgage  in 
June,  as  a  birthday  present." 

"  Oh !  no,  you  mustn't  do  that." 

"Why  not?" 

Mrs.  Wilbur  left  her  breakfast  and  walked  nervously 
across  the  room.  "I  shouldn't  feel  quite  right  about 
it." 

Wilbur  flashed  out  what  was  in  his  mind. 

"  Your  old  nonsense  over  the  traction  stocks  ! " 

"  We  had  better  not  go  into  that  matter.  After  all,  I 
suppose  it  is  only  a  question  of  form,  but  I  should  like 
to  feel  that  as  long  as  I  live  here,  my  home  represents  my 
money." 

"  So  you  put  yourself  off  from  me,  and  what  is  good 
enough  for  me  isn't  for  you." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  looked  at  him  coldly. 

"  We  disagreed  :  you  don't  understand  my  position." 

"I'll  be  hanged  if  I  do." 

"  Will  you  sell  the  house  ?  " 

Wilbur  got  up  to  leave  in  a  pet.  Then  his  good-nature 
returned,  —  it  was  all  such  a  ridiculously  small  matter. 

"Why,  of  course,  Ada;  it  only  amounts  to  a  change 
of  name  in  the  stocks.  I'll  bring  you  the  deeds  in  a 
few  days." 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  167 

He  kissed  her  lightly  and  left  the  room.  She  opened 
her  letters  one  by  one,  absent-mindedly,  tossing  the  en 
velopes  into  the  fire.  Then  she  ordered  her  carriage, 
and  gathering  up  the  mass  of  loose  notes,  went  to  her 
library.  She  could  not  straighten  out  the  difficulty 
merely  by  a  transfer  of  names  on  some  pieces  of  paper. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHEN  Mrs.  Wilbur  returned  after  the  death  of  her 
child  to  the  world  of  clubs  and  visits,  she  learned  that 
Erard  had  been  invited  to  Minneapolis  and  Omaha  to 
deliver  lectures.  She  heard  rumours  that  he  was  con 
sidering  "  taking  up  a  permanent  residence  "  in  America 
as  curator  for  a  museum  of  art  in  some  western  city.  The 
idea  struck  her  as  so  ideally  humorous  that  she  felt  it 
must  have  emanated  from  Erard.  In  the  early  spring  he 
appeared  in  Chicago,  this  time  visiting  Mrs.  Stevans  and 
"getting  acquainted"  quite  thoroughly.  When  he  at 
tended  the  opera  in  Mrs.  Stevans's  box,  the  vast  hall 
of  knowing  neighbours  remarked:  "There's  Mrs.  Wil 
bur's  Erard." 

Public  opinion  over  Erard  was  divided.  He  did  not 
create  such  a  sensation  as  his  advent  before  the  Fair 
might  have  excited.  Chicago  had  become  cloyed  with 
real  celebrities  that  came  and  stayed  and  dined  for  long 
weeks.  When  the  men  met  him  at  dinners  and  recep 
tions,  they  treated  him  well  enough,  but  without  cor 
diality.  They  thought  him  a  kind  of  adventurer  who 
dealt  in  the  frills  of  life.  Therefore,  he  was  consigned 
to  the  women  as  an  emasculated  specimen. 

Mrs.  Wilbur's  mind  came  back  to  Erard  frequently. 
She  envied  his  air  of  detachment,  and  she  scrutinized 

168 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  169 

minutely  all  his  enigmatic  talk  to  her  in  half-phrases  of 
tantalizing  irony.  He  was  identified  with  the  other  life 
of  the  mind  and  spirit,  the  craving  for  which  was  get 
ting  hold  of  her  again.  He  was  a  repository  of  elusive 
sensations  towards  which  she  looked  and  hungered. 

She  met  him  at  this  period,  inadvertently,  on  an 
occasion  that  gave  emphasis  to  his  power.  She  had 
driven  to  a  distant  point  on  the  North  Side,  and  on  the 
return  her  carriage  was  stopped  as  the  coachman  at 
tempted  to  turn  into  Michigan  Avenue.  It  was  well 
past  noon,  yet  the  streets  were  thronged  with  people. 
Soon  the  strains  of  a  military  band  could  be  heard  from, 
the  north.  Then  she  remembered  that  her  husband 
had  said  something  about  a  monument  to  be  dedicated 
on  the  Lake  front,  and  she  recalled  the  fact  that  tickets 
had  been  sent  them  for  the  ceremonies.  These  she  had 
handed  over  to  Molly  Parker,  not  caring  to  broil  for 
an  hour  in  the  sun  for  the  sake  of  hearing  the  windy 
eloquence  of  war  oratory.  That  she  should  have  for 
gotten  the  event,  which  had  been  talked  about  for 
months,  showed  how  little  interest  her  neighbours7 
affairs  had  for  her.  It  was  too  late  to  turn  back  now ; 
the  street  had  packed  in  close  behind  with  vehicles  and 
spectators.  She  settled  herself  to  the  delay  with  a 
languid  curiosity.  Fortunately  her  carriage  had  been 
intercepted  at  the  verge  of  the  avenue  where  the  pro 
cession  was  to  pass,  and  through  the  lowered  window 
she  could  easily  survey  the  whole  scene. 

The  high  buildings  about  were  black  with  people. 
At  her  right  the  large  casements  of  the  Metropolis  Club 


170  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

were  swung  open,  and  she  caught  sight  of  a  number  of 
gentlemen  smoking  comfortably  in  armchairs.  On  the 
street  the  people  jammed  up  to  the  wheels  of  the  carriage 
—  a  motley  crowd  of  business  men,  clerks,  boys,  and 
women.  They  stared  into  her  brougham  with  frank  curi 
osity  and  exchanged  remarks  about  the  equipage.  Mrs. 
Wilbur  felt  as  if  she  ought  to  alight  and  stand  with  the 
others ;  somehow  in  this  city  and  at  this  ceremony  the 
luxury  of  her  horses  and  carriage  was  misplaced.  But 
her  eyes  were  held  by  the  soft  blue  sky,  and  the  lake- 
water  freshening  in  the  gentle  wind.  Between  her  and 
the  lake,  off  a  little  to  one  side,  was  the  scaffolding  for 
ticket-holders,  already  black  with  people,  and  in  the 
centre  the  canvas  tent  surrounding  the  new  statue  of 
the  warrior. 

The  music  came  nearer;  the  banks  of  spectators  on 
the  avenue  surged  back  before  the  platoon  of  police.  In 
the  jam  that  resulted  she  caught  sight  of  Erard's  thin 
figure,  swayed  back  into  a  doorway  near  her  carriage. 
He  soon  detected  her,  and  edging  his  way  into  the 
press,  he  succeeded  in  gaining  the  carriage,  where  he 
stood  by- the  open  window,  resting  his  body  against 
the  wheel.  By  this  time  the  police  had  passed,  and  the 
first  band;  next  came  a  few  irregular  lines  of  veterans 
who  were  cheered  enthusiastically. 

"  I  wonder  how  they'll  do  it,"  Erard  shouted  into  the 
carriage.  "Mrs.  Stevans  gave  me  a  ticket,  but  I  was 
too  late  to  secure  my  seat." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  nodded.  The  veterans  had  been  suc 
ceeded  by  the  barouches  in  which  the  officials  of  the 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  171 

occasion  were  driven.  Then  came  the  governors  of  the 
neighbouring  states,  surrounded  by  their  suites,  —  civil 
ians  who  sat  awkwardly  on  their  horses.  Each  state  was 
cheered,  by  the  boisterous  crowd,  as  its  representative 
passed.  Suddenly  the  cheers  changed  to  derisive  howls, 
laughter,  and  hoots. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  Mrs.  Wilbur  leaned  out  of 
her  carriage  as  far  as  possible  to  see  what  had  disturbed 
the  decorum  of  the  occasion. 

"They've  got  a  kind  of  buffoon,"  Erard  answered. 
"  The  gentleman  hasn't  a  good  seat." 

"That  is  the  governor  of  Illinois,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  ex 
claimed,  blushing  unconsciously  at  the  spectacle.  "  Oh, 
it's  a  shame  —  here  of  all  times  —  before  the  people." 

"  They  don't  seem  to  like  it  —  the  people,"  Erard  re 
marked,  as  low  cries  of  "  Shame,  shame,"  rose  on  all  sides. 

"  Why,  this  is  a  public  disgrace  before  the  world ! " 
Mrs.  Wilbur  seemed  to  take  the  affair  personally. 

"  He  has  other  bad  habits,  I  have  heard."  Erard  spoke 
jauntily.  Mrs.  Wilbur  looked  at  him  with  startled  eyes. 
"  What  have  you  heard  ?  " 

"  If  all  one  hears  is  only  a  quarter  true,  your  gover 
nor  should  be  accompanied  by  his  familiar  spirit,  his 
Mephisto  of  the  golden  touch." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Mrs.  Wilbur  had  an  irra 
tional  apprehension  in  her  voice. 

"Why,  they  name  the  exact  figure  he  received  from 
Mephisto  for  his  soul  —  if  he  has  one.  The  Thunderer 
came  out  with  it  this  morning  in  dollars  and  cents,  one 
hundred  thousand  odd." 


172         THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

"  Oh ! "  Mrs.  Wilbur  turned  her  face  away  as  if  person 
ally  relieved.  "Mere  newspaper  stories.  Dick  doesn't 
like  him." 

Erard  shrugged  his  shoulders  sceptically.  "Others 
say  it  beside  '  Capitalist  Dick/  And  it  is  a  picturesque 
fable  anyway :  it  all  suits."  He  motioned  down  the 
avenue  whither  the  reeling  figure  of  the  governor  had 
disappeared.  "Drunk  with  wine  and  wealth:  your 
democracy  has  reached  a  wallowing  era." 

"  That  cannot  be  true."  Mrs.  Wilbur  returned  to  the 
Thunderer's  accusation.  Erard  looked  at  her  ironically, 
as  if  amused  at  her  earnestness. 

"One  hears  it  elsewhere.  It  comes  pretty  straight. 
Your  fat  Mephisto  selected  an  agent,  a  young  society 
man,  who  let  it  out  over  his  cups." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  was  silent.  The  procession  wound  on, 
with  companies  of  regular  troops  and  boyish-looking 
militia,  then  endless  organizations  of  labour  in  black 
suits,  carrying  many  little  banners.  By  this  time  the 
press  about  the  carriage  relaxed ;  the  street  became  once 
more  passable. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  home,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  remarked.  "  If 
you  are  going  south,  I  will  take  you." 

Erard  accepted  the  offered  seat,  and  the  coachman 
began  the  intricate  process  of  retreat.  "I  have  not 
seen  you  for  a  long  time."  Erard  looked  at  his  com 
panion  closely. 

"  No !  It's  been  a  strange  year !  And  now  I  hear  news 
of  your  accepting  us  permanently." 

Erard  smiled.     "  I  shall  spend  next  winter  in  Eome." 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  FREEDOM  173 

She  sighed. 

"Audi  you?" 

"  Here,  I  suppose,  unless  the  impossible  happens." 

The  carriage  had  gained  the  avenue  once  more  beyond 
the  procession.  They  could  hear  the  booming  of  the 
cannon  from  the  ships  in  the  harbour :  the  speeches  had 
begun. 

"I  thought,"  Erard  continued  slowly,  "you  were 
arranging  yourself  for  another  career." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  blushed  unreasonably. 

"I  had  almost  begun  to  count  on  your  help  in  my 
next  work."  She  said  nothing,  thus  inviting  him  to 
explain  his  meaning.  "You  mustn't  throw  yourself 
away.  You  are  too  fine  for  —  this."  His  gesture  was 
expressive. 

"  Too  feeble,  rather,"  she  protested. 

"You  will  never  gain  peace  until  your  mind  is 
satisfied." 

He  seemed  to  read  her  thoughts,  to  have  accompanied 
her  these  past  months,  and  now  to  say  the  fitting,  final 
word. 

"  It  would  take  a  great  deal  —  a  catastrophe  —  to  move 
me.  Woman's  modesty  is  one-half  inertia." 

"  The  catastrophe  has  come,  perhaps." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  shook  her  head.  "I  don't  know.  Yet 
sometimes  I  think  so." 

They  were  silent  until  the  carriage  reached  the  boule 
vard  where  the  Wilburs'  house  was  situated. 

"  You  have  given  up  painting ! "  Mrs.  Wilbur  ex 
claimed  irrelevantly.  "  I  am  so  sorry  for  that.  Doing, 


174  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

even  feeble  doing,  seems  to  me  so  much  more  real  than 
all  this  criticism." 

"  On  the  contrary/7  Erard  remarked,  "  the  critic  is  the 
comprehensive,  the  understanding,  the  sensuous  soul. 
The  desire  to  '  do,'  as  you  call  it,  is  an  egotistical  conceit, 
and  generally  a  desire  for  notoriety.'7 

"Perhaps  in  part,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  admitted,  thinking 
momentarily  of  her  husband. 

"The  one  thing  in  life  is  to  enjoy."  Erard  watched 
her  closely  to  observe  how  she  would  take  this  frank 
hedonism. 

"  No,  not  that,"  she  protested.  "  I  cannot  accept  your 
view." 

"Make  all  the  pretty  phrases  about  it  you  can," — 
Erard  shrugged  his  shoulders,  —  "  it  comes  to  that.  You 
know  it." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  shook  her  head.     "  Then  we  are  beasts ! " 

"  Superior  beasts,  yes." 

The  carriage  drew  up  at  the  door  of  the  great  house. 
In  the  dazzling  atmosphere  of  this  June  day  the  stone 
seemed  whiter,  harder  than  ever.  It  had  taken  on  very 
little  stain  or  age. 

"  I  have  brought  you  a  mile  beyond  your  destination. 
The  man  will  drive  you  back." 

"  No ! "  Erard  refused.     "  The  air  is  really  too  fine." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  turned  to  mount  the  white  steps,  then 
lingered.  She  looked  at  Erard,  her  mind  passing  over 
his  shambling  figure  and  lustreless  features  on  to  the 
sweet  garden  of  delights  with  which  somehow  she  had, 
strangely  enough,  identified  him.  A  rush  of  feeling,  of 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  175 

longing  unutterable  for  the  beautiful,  for  the  dream, 
surged  through  her  heart.  Oh !  for  one  moment  of 
escape  from  these  endless  avenues,  from  this  flaunting 
city,  from  Wrightington  and  money,  and,  yes,  her  hus 
band!  To  hold  once  more  the  holy  peace  of  beauty 
and  with  it  to  still  her  rebellious  heart. 

Erard  seemed  to  wait  for  something. 

"  You  will  call  ?  "  she  asked  at  length. 

He  looked  annoyed ;  he  had  expected  a  more  significant 
result  from  their  talk. 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,  very  soon.  In  a  fortnight  I  shall  be 
shaking  the  dust  —  " 

"  I  must  see  you  again.     It  is  all  such  a  tangle ! " 

As  Erard  turned  down  the  boulevard,  he  met  Wilbur, 
and  raised  his  hat,  rather  vacantly. 


CHAPTER  IX 

AMONG  the  men  who  had  been  watching  the  proces 
sion  from  the  comfortable  armchairs  of  the  Metropolis 
Club  was  John  Wilbur.  He  had  recently  been  received 
as  a  member,  —  an  event  deeply  gratifying  to  him.  In 
his  "  hustling  years,"  as  he  called  the  period  before  the 
opening  of  the  new  house,  he  had  not  thought  much 
about  clubs.  But  success  translated  itself  this  way. 
He  had  become  much  more  zealous  for  all  possible 
social  distinctions  than  his  wife,  for  she  had  always 
*  lived  abreast  of  the  society  where  she  had  been  placed. 

This  afternoon  Wilbur  had  noticed  his  wife's  carriage 
caught  in  the  jam  of  the  street  below,  and  he  had  watched 
the  conversation  between  her  and  Erard,  and  finally  their 
disappearance.  At  the  club  he  had  heard  a  good  deal 
more  about  Erard  than  at  his  own  home.  He  found 
that  he  was  considered  a  source  of  reliable  information 
about  Erard  by  those  few  men  who  were  interested 
enough  in  the  young  man  to  remember  him.  It  irritated 
Wilbur  because,  apart  from  his  indifference  to  Erard, 
it  always  chafed  him  to  feel  that  certain  aspects  of  his 
wife  were  outside  his  comprehension.  He  even  suspected 
at  times  that,  now  they  no  longer  had  business  interests 
in  common,  he  bored  her.  Bored  his  wife !  Thus  this 
afternoon  Erard  made  a  very  significant  figure  in  the 

176 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  177 

landscape.  All  the  crude  instincts  of  the  man  from  a 
Michigan  farm  were  stirred.  Erard  should  "get";  no 
gossip  about  his  home ! 

Wilbur  proceeded  in  this  business  about  as  delicately 
as  he  would  if  he  had  had  a  clerk  to  censure.  His 
wife  had  been  given  too  free  a  rein :  she  must  feel  that 
his  interests,  if  not  propriety,  were  to  be  considered. 
In  this  mood  he  followed  his  wife  into  the  house,  where 
he  found  her  sitting  idly  by  the  west  window  of  her 
little  room.  A  book  had  fallen  on  the  seat  by  her 
side ;  she  seemed  to  be  brooding  over  difficult  thoughts. 

"Ady,"  Wilbur's  voice  roused  her  like  a  roll  of  thun 
der,  "I  saw  you  talking  to  Erard  this  afternoon  under 
the  windows  of  the  club,  and  then  take  him  away 
with  you." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  opened  her  eyes  and  waited.  Wilbur 
fumed.  It  was  like  a  thunderstorm  without  the  rain, 
—  oppressive,  with  no  hope  of  after-relief.  "When 
does  he  get  out  of  here?" 

"  How  should  I  pretend  to  know !  He  is  visiting  Mrs. 
Stevans." 

"A  man  doesn't  want  his  wife  talked  about  at  all 
the  clubs,"  he  began  again  in  bungling  fashion.  Mrs. 
Wilbur's  eyes  grew  cold. 

"  You  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  you  have  been  foolish  about  that  Erard 
ever  since  you  knew  him,  by  all  accounts." 

"Stop!"  Mrs.  Wilbur  raised  her  hand.  "That  is 
quite  enough.  I  am  sorry  you  have  been  listening  to 
gossip." 


178  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FEEEDOM 

Wilbur  was  a  churchgoing  Presbyterian  Christian. 
What  he  was  doing  he  regarded,  not  only  as  manly, 
but  as  conscientious.  He  had  no  other  traditions  of 
conduct  in  such  affairs. 

"  It  isn't  enough,  unless  you  promise  to  send  him  away 
the  next  time  he  calls  here.  I  don't  want  you  receiving 
his  visits,  now  there's  talk." 

"No,"  his  wife  replied,  growing  colder,  her  words  fall 
ing  like  little  flakes  of  ice.  "  I  cannot  do  that ;  I  see  no 
reason  for  it.  You  can  instruct  the  footman  to  keep 
him  out  of  the  house  if  you  like.  But  I  shall  never 
refuse  to  see-  him ;  and,"  —  she  turned  to  her  writing- 
table  and  prepared  to  answer  a  note,  —  "I  shouldn't  take 
that  course,  if  I  were  you." 

She  had  not  intended  this  last  remark  as  a  threat: 
it  had  been  prompted  by  a  desire  to  make  the  situation 
endurable.  It  would  precipitate  a  crisis,  if  he  should 
become  aggressive  and  humiliate  her  before  her  servants. 
Wilbur,  however,  had  had  the  uncomfortable  feeling  of 
living  in  reproof  ever  since  the  call  at  the  Eemsens; 
now  he  intended  to  exercise  his  moral  sense. 

When  a  few  minutes  later  Mrs.  Wilbur  ascended  the 
stairs,  which  swept  in  a  gentle  curve  around  the  north 
side  of  the  hall,  she  could  hear  her  husband  below  her, 
giving  orders  to  the  butler.  He  was  concluding  in  loud 
tones,  "  Smith,  if  Mr.  Erard  calls  after  this,  we  shall  not 
be  at  home.  Eemember  and  tell  the  footman  that  we 
shall  always  be  out  to  Mr.  Erard." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  she  heard  Smith's  galvanic  voice  reply.  It 
was  the  first  order  of  the  kind  ever  given  in  that  house. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  179 

Some  acquaintances  came  in  during  the  evening,  and 
the  conversation  grew  warm  over  one  of  the  innumerable 
strikes  in  the  city.  Wilbur  was  emphatic,  as  usual,  in 
beTalf  of  the  capitalists,  "  the  right  of  a  man  to  do  what 
he  wanted  with  his  own."  His  wife  remembered  that 
this  illiberal  attitude  had  grown  steadily  since  his  first 
success.  He  had  become  more  and  more  convinced  that 
the  poor  man's  poverty  was  his  own  crime.  She  leaned 
her  white  face  against  the  soft  cushion  in  her  chair,  and 
closed  her  eyes  to  shut  out  thought. 

Yet  she  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  procession,  of 
the  loathsome  figure  on  horseback,  and  the  absent  Me- 
phisto  —  and  of  her  husband,  in  some  way  united  to  this 
crew.  She  had  not  triumphed ;  she  had  not  held  him  to 
the  finer  courses  of  conduct.  And  she  had  not  even  kept 
her  home  unspotted :  this  house  was  really  Mephisto's ; 
he  had  merely  tossed  it  to  a  hanger-on. 

She  looked  again  at  that  husband,  regarding  him  for 
the  first  time  objectively,  as  if  he  were  an  outsider  — 
with  a  dangerous  perception  of  the  doubleness  of  their 
personalities.  To  perceive  that,  marks  the  end  of  mar 
riage.  She  had  no  harsh  feelings,  no  great  resentment 
at  his  clownish  reproof;  he  was  not  her  mind  and 
thought  and  heart.  He  was  simply  a  man  whom  she 
knew  uncommonly  well,  and  on  whose  points  good  and 
bad  she  was  an  authority.  She  could  be  very  fair  to 
the  good  points,  —  that  was  a  fatal  sign!  He  had  not 
deteriorated  in  the  years  of  marriage,  had  developed 
no  vices  or  brutality.  He  was  the  same  confident, 
shrewd,  adaptable  American  she  had  married  three  years 


180  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

ago.  A  little  more  eager  then  and  impulsive ;  more' 
fluid,  perhaps,  at  the  age  when  nothing  is  impossible  of 
accomplishment,  at  least  in  the  belief  of  an  admiring 
woman.  The  fire  of  the  struggle  in  Chicago  had  left 
him  less  fluid,  but  more  powerful.  Alas  !  it  had  burned 
out  all  minor  alloys,  leaving  him  a  steel  weapon,  fash 
ioned  by  modern  society,  for  use  in  converting  the  earth 
into  the  hands  of  plutocracy. 

The  wealth  that  had  come  to  them  early  in  life,  and 
her  own  social  powers,  had  suddenly  placed  him  in  a 
world  for  which  he  had  no  traditions  ready  to  assist 
him.  He  was  the  American  peasant.  He  did  not  eat 
with  his  knife,  nor  break  any  commonplace  amenity. 
He  was  educated,  too,  even  if  merely  in  a  varnishing 
way,  much  more  than  hosts  of  his  comrades.  But  he 
was,  nevertheless,  the  peasant.  Anywhere  else  there 
would  have  been  intermediate  stages  in  the  social  evo 
lution  where  he  would  have  stuck,  his  descendants  to  go 
on  as  they  proved  ready  and  had  imbibed  the  ideas  of 
service  and  honour  that  befitted  the  possessors  of  great 
power.  But  Wilbur  with  one  powerful  effort  had  gained 
the  heights,  and  he  had  no  humbleness,  no  distrust, — 
nothing  was  too  good  for  a  clever  man  who  had  made 
his  money. 

hy  could  she  see  all  this  so  clearly  ?  Had  she  ever 
loved  him?  For,  had  she  loved  him,  her  eyes  would 
have  shrunk  from  the  sore.  When  did  she  begin  to  fail 
in  loving  him?  Her  grave  face  still  rested  upon  her 
husband  in  this  searching  wonder,  until  she  noticed  that 
he  was  uncomfortable.  Once  she  heard  the  footman  cross 


_  his  B 


THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  181 

the  hall  to  answer  a  ring ;  after  an  interval  he  returned 
with  a  card  which  he  left  on  the  hall  table.  Erard  had 
called  and  been  dismissed.  She  had  little  personal  inter 
est  in  the  fact :  Erard,  indeed,  was  quite  an  unimportant 
person. 

When  the  last  visitor  had  left  and  Mrs.  Anthon  had 
talked  herself  into  sleepiness  from  the  lack  of  any  con 
versational  opposition,  Wilbur  prepared  to  put  the  lights 
out  as  usual. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  John."  These  were  the  first  words 
she  had  spoken  to  him  since  their  conversation  before 
dinner.  "I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  and  I  had 
rather  say  it  here  where  we  meet  —  on  a  more  formal 
footing." 

Wilbur,  who  had  seen  the  card  on  the  table,  squared 
himself  in  front  of  the  fireplace  and  prepared  to  be  kind 
and  firm  and  just. 

"  I  know  that  you  will  think  what  I  am  going  to  pro 
pose  is  queer,"  she  began  gently,  "  and  I  am  afraid  that 
you  will  think  it  wrong.  But  I  must,  I  must  do  it." 

Wilbur's  face  wore  a  frightened  look,  as  though  he 
feared  a  confession  of  deadly  sin. 

"I  want  to  leave  you,  to  go  away  somewhere,  to 
Europe  probably." 

«  What  for  ?  " 

"Because  I  am  not  happy  here.  I  cannot  take  the 
interest  I  had  in  Chicago  or  in  our  affairs,  and  I  am 
thinking  constantly  of  other  things.  I  am  no  longer  a 
good  wife,  I  believe."  She  had  no  idea  how  literally 
Wilbur  would  take  this  admission. 


182  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  it's  come  to  that  with  Erard." 
Wilbur's  face  assumed  a  sneer,  as  an  outward  reflection 
of  his  opinion  of  Erard.  Mrs.  Wilbur  rose  as  if  sud 
denly  whipped. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  ISTo !  you  needn't  explain. 
I  understand."  Her  manner  changed  to  a  contemptuous 
coolness.  "  I  am  sorry  that  my  determination  to  leave 
your  house  should  coincide  so  exactly  with  your  vulgar 
outbreak  over  my  old  friend.  No,  I  shall  not  leave 
Chicago  with  him  !  Had  I  thought  of  doing  so,  I  should 
probably  not  have  consulted  you,  though  you  and  my 
mother  have  done  what  you  could  to  goad  a  woman 
to  that." 

"  But,"  she  continued  firmly,  "  my  feelings,  my  deter 
mination,  have  been  growing,  growing,"  she  repeated  the 
word  hopelessly,  seeing  how  difficult  it  was  to  make  her 
conduct  seem  rational,  not  mere  caprice.  "  And  it  may 
be  for  only  a  few  months.  I  want  to  get  away  by  myself." 

Wilbur  would  not  abandon  the  Erard  motive. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you  meant  to  run  away  with  him, 
but  he's  stirred  you  up;  got  you  all  out  of  gear,  with 
his  twaddle  and  sentiment." 

"  Perhaps  he  has  hastened  matters,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  ad 
mitted,  anxious  to  do  justice  to  any  reasonable  argu 
ments.  "But  that  is  immaterial  really.  He  merely 
made  me  think  faster  —  although  we  never  referred  to 
my  married  life." 

"  Do  you  pretend  to  justify  your  conduct  ?  "  Wilbur 
fumed.  He  was  plainly  embarrassed  by  the  suddenness 
of  this  great  question. 


THE   GOSPEL    OF   FREEDOM  183 

"Not  at  all,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  replied,  with  a  touch  of 
sarcasm,  "  all  the  justification  will  be  on  your  side. 
There's  no  excuse  for  me,  since  you  have  not  threatened 
my  life  nor  committed  adultery.  You  will  have  uni 
versal  sympathy." 

They  thought  silently  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  she 
added,  —  "And  I  should  want  you  to  have  this  house 
and  all  the  money  I  had  when  we  were  married  —  in  any 
event." 

"Have  you  any  objections  to  me?"  Wilbur  asked 
roughly. 

And  thus  they  continued  to  discuss  the  matter  in  the 
still  room  of  the  still  house  that  Mrs.  Wilbur  had  likened 
to  a  tomb.  The  man's  sense  of  wanton,  unprovoked 
injury  increased  as  each  bend  of  the  argument  revealed 
itself.  He  was  so  irreproachably  right !  a  truth  which 
his  wife  did  not  attempt  to  deny. 

"  But  why  do  you  want  to  retain  a  despicable  woman  ?  " 
she  asked  coldly,  at  last. 

If  he  loved  her,  she  thought,  he  would  not  try  to 
convince  her  with  arguments  of  propriety  and  religious 
exhortations.  And  if  he  showed  that  he  loved  her  pas 
sionately  she  would  not  have  the  courage  to  leave  him. 
One  expression  of  longing  love  would  have  bound  her 
hand  and  foot. 

He  did  love  her,  in  his  way,  as  a  busy  man  married 
nearly  four  years,  who,  could  not  devote  himself  exclu 
sively  to  sentiments,  does  love.  He  admired  her,  was 
proud  of  her  fine  presence  in  dress,  thought  she  was  a 
clever  woman  —  indeed  the  most  superb  creature  of  her 


184  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

sex  he  had  ever  seen.  And  he  loved  domesticity  in 
itself.  He  had  an  honest  loathing  for  immorality,  and 
a  healthy  respect  for  the  home.  He  hoped  for  a  family 
of  children  "  to  put  ahead  in  the  world."  He  was  pre 
pared  to  be  a  good  husband  and  father,  and,  now !  a 
catastrophe  from  a  clear  sky.  A  man's  pride  receives  a 
severe  cuff  when  the  handsome  woman  he  has  secured, 
as  he  thinks,  on  a  life-tenure,  shows  the  world  that  she 
is  sick  of  the  bargain. 

They  gave  up  the  subject  in  sheer  exhaustion  that 
night,  Mrs.  Wilbur  agreeing  to  take  no  final  step  with 
out  further  consideration.  As  she  left  the  room,  her 
husband  said  blankly,  "You  couldn't  have  cared  much 
all  along!" 

She  turned  with  a  gleam  of  irritation. 

"It  was  to  be  a  partnership,  wasn't  it?  There  was 
too  much  of  that  idea.  Marriage  isn't  a  partnership. 
It's  —  " 

He  waited  expectantly. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  moaned.  "I  have  done  you  a 
wrong,  somehow." 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  business  of  the  Legal  Aid  Society  had  brought 
Thornton  Jennings  to  know  one  Peter  Erard,  an  operative 
in  a  piano-factory.  He  lived  with  his  father,  a  helpless 
old  man,  on  one  of  the  long  traffic  streets  which  pierce 
the  stockyards  district.  In  the  section  where  the  Erards 
lived,  the  narrow  frame  cottages  were  sunk  below  the 
level  of  the  street,  which  seemed  to  have  bestirred  itself 
recently  and  risen  above  the  squalor  of  the  marsh.  Jen 
nings  had  asked  Molly  Parker  to  visit  the  Erards,  when 
Peter  met  with  an  accident  at  the  factory,  that  ended 
finally  in  a  fever  and  a  gradual  decline.  While  he  was 
idle  Jennings  and  Miss  Parker  did  what  they  could  for 
him.  They  discussed  the  possibility  of  Mrs.  Wilbur's 
inducing  Simeon  to  do  something  for  the  old  man,  at 
least  in  the  event  of  Peter's  death.  But  Miss  Parker 
was  afraid  of  the  subject  in  her  friend's  present  mood. 

The  two  felt  that  Peter's  misfortune  was  more  pathetic 
than  showed  on  the  surface.  "  He  yearns  for  what  the 
other  one  got,"  Jennings  said.  "He  stuck  by  the  old 
people,  and  yet  he  had  the  call,  too." 

When  Molly  reflected  dubiously  that  it  did  seem  as  if 
conscience  didn't  pay,  Jennings  puzzled  her  by  asserting : 
"It  doesn't  —  unless  you  can't  help  it.  Peter  couldn't, 
and  so  he  is  dying  over  there  in  that  hole  with  his  sharp 

185 


186  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

little  eyes  unsatisfied.  Simeon  could,  and  so  lie  sails  to 
Europe  for  a  poultice  that  will  heal  the  abrasions  we 
have  made  on  his  sensorium." 

Miss  Parker  learned  much  from  pondering  on  this  case 
of  Peter  Erard.  He  was  such  a  confirmed  sceptic,  she 
found,  that  she  hesitated  to  proffer  her  simple  religious 
panacea.  Jennings  seemed  to  her  sceptical  also,  when 
he  insisted  that  Peter's  sacrifice  was  quite  irrational.  To 
her  insistent  why,  he  answered  dreamily,  —  "  '  Why,  wliyj 
—  you  can't  answer  whys.  Why  do  we  hate  and  love, 
and  why  do  we  live  ?  The  Master  wills  it ;  it  is  idle  to 
talk  back." 

This  was  a  vague  reason,  yet  wonderfully  comforting 
to  Molly,  chiefly  on  account  of  the  authority  the  pro- 
pounder  had  with  her.  If  he  were  content  with  this 
mystery,  she  must  be.  So  she  continued  to  visit  the 
Erards,  and  formed  plans  of  using  Adela's  purse  to  help 
the  old  man.  For  it  was  but  just  that  Mrs.  Wilbur 
should  pay  some  of  Simeon  Erard's  bills  to  society. 
When  Jennings  urged  that  Mrs.  Wilbur  could  probably 
force  Erard  to  make  Peter's  last  days  happy  in  other 
ways  than  with  money,  Miss  Parker  shook  her  head. 

"  Adela  can  be  as  hard  as  a  rock." 

"  Perhaps  she  has  never  been  tapped  the  right  way." 

Yet  to  her  suggestion  that  he  should  try  tapping  the 
rock,  he  answered  lightly,  "  I  guess  I'm  not  her  Moses." 

It  disturbed  the  equable  Molly  to  realize  how  much  in 
terest  he  took  in  Mrs.  Wilbur.  For  "  Adela  spoils  every 
thing,"  she  declared  sententiously. 

Jennings  had  it  in  mind  to  approach  Mrs.  Wilbur,  at 


THE   GOSPEL    OF   FREEDOM  187 

the  first  good  chance,  in  behalf  of  the  Erards.  He  had 
seen  little  of  her  since  the  fall  season ;  intangible  influ 
ences  kept  them  apart.  Late  in  June,  however,  he  spent 
a  Sunday  in  one  of  the  northern  suburbs  at  Mrs.  Stevaiis's 
"  place/'  and  when  he  arrived  from  the  city  in  the  even 
ing,  he  discovered  Mrs.  Wilbur  sitting  alone  on  the  cool, 
silent  veranda  above  the  lake.  The  other  guests  had 
gone  off  for  a  drive  along  the  bluffs.  She  greeted  him 
with  frank  surprise. 

"  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you  here." 

"They  don't  seem  quite  my  crowd,"  he  admitted 
cheerily.  "  But  Mrs.  Stevans  is  a  sort  of  cousin,  and  she 
has  done  her  best  for  me.  She  has  found  me  a  hard 
case ;  her  good  deeds  have  come  to  asking  me  for  over 
Sunday." 

"  Why  haven't  you  hit  it  off  in  Chicago  ?  "  Mrs.  Wilbur 
inquired  curiously. 

"  Why  haven't  you  ?  "  the  young  man  retorted.  "  And 
I  like  it  tremendously  well  here.  I  should  want  to  hang 
on  merely  for  the  pleasure  of  seeing  your  crowd  thrown 
into  the  lake  or  banged  on  the  head,  if  they  don't  reform." 
He  tilted  back  and  forth  with  suppressed  merriment. 
"  I  can't  help  feeling  pleased  over  the  growls  from  the 
'  masses.'  If  some  of  your  rich  friends  keep  on  grabbing 
quite  so  shamelessly,  there  will  be  a  row.  I  should  hate 
to  shoulder  a  musket  in  defence  of  your  palace,  Mrs. 
Wilbur." 

"Their  selfishness  is  intolerable,"  she  said  fiercely. 
"  I  feel  stifled  when  I  see  them." 

"  Yet  many  of  them  are  very  good  people  to  see."    Her 


188  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

explosiveness  rendered  him  impartial.  "  You  are  too 
ready  to  include  all;  there  is  a  splendid  remnant  — 
fine  men  one  can  honestly  admire.  Even  the  selfish  ones 
are  merely  crude  and  wrong-headed.  You  don't  do  the 
place  justice." 

"  I  can't  be  just.  There  is  no  reason  in  my  life  here." 
She  leaned  toward  him  appealingly,  longing  for  sym 
pathy.  He  was  not  merely  a  young  man  she  had  seen  a 
dozen  times  in  a  fragmentary  way.  He  was  so  intensely 
human  that  she  felt  she  had  always  known  him. 

"  No,  not  on  your  basis,  there  isn't  any  reason,"  Jen 
nings  admitted. 

She  waited  for  his  meaning. 

"  The  refined  selfish  person  can't  get  satisfied  here." 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"You  have  always  desired.  A  tremendous  ego,  and 
admirable,  admirable,"  he  ended  softly. 

She  was,  indeed,  beautiful  and  alluring  as  she  lay  in 
the  steamer-chair,  questioning  him  with  her  anxious  eyes. 
The  personal  power  of  her  developed,  intelligent  face  ex 
cited  him,  and  made  him  totally  forgetful  of  the  Erards. 

"  You  think  me  pretty  bad,"  she  exclaimed,  dropping 
her  hand  from  her  face. 

"  No  ! "  he  began  to  tilt  back  and  forth  once  more  ab 
stractedly.  "  Of  the  two  souls  —  the  one  that  demands, 
the  other  that  accepts  —  you  are  the  demanding,  absorb 
ing  kind.  Most  women  accept,  ultimately." 

They  paused,  embarrassed  at  the  distance  they  had 
gone  from  the  conventional. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  added  softly,  "for  I  don't  believe 


v// 

THE    GOSPEL    OF    FREEDOM  189 


there  is  any  peace  for  your  kind.  You  go  flaming  about 
the  earth,  until  death  extinguishes  you." 

" Oh !  to  flame,  to  burn,  to  feel"  she  appealed  for  his 
alliance  in  her  revolt.  He  rose  from  his  chair  and  paced 
back  and  forth,  his  face  flushed  with  an  excitement 
deeper  than  hers. 

"That  is  not  all,"  he  murmured  to  quiet  himself. 
"  There  are  mighty  laws  which  are  holy.  And  there  is 
holiness  itself,  a  state  of  spirit  in  the  face  of  our  Lord 
the  Master,  and  that  is  peace.  It  is  possible,  yes,  as 
possible  as  the  intoxication  of  passion." 

"  If  I  take  my  life  in  my  own  hands,  and  go  where  I 
can  spend  it  joyfully,"  she  spoke  deliberately,  "then?" 

"  Then,"  his  low  voice  swept  by  her,  "  you  are  burned 
to  ashes." 

"  But  I  shall  do  it,"  she  exclaimed  defiantly,  "  I  think. 
Yes!  I  shall  — " 

He  had  come  to  a  stand  by  her  side  and  looked  at  her 
sympathetically.  "  Well,  do  it,  and  God  help  you  when 
your  heart  lies  cold,"  he  burst  out,  resuming  his  tramp. 

"  I  don't  think  He  will  help  me,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  had  it 
on  her  lips  to  say.  "  If  "•  —  but  the  wistful  words  died 
unspoken.  Her  husband's  reproach  came  to  her  mind. 
"  If  you  had  cared  very  much ! "  She  had  not  cared, 
that  was  the  truth.  Jennings  had  stripped  her  subter 
fuges  away,  —  her  nausea  over  the  business  methods  of 
a  few  men  among  the  multitude  of  honest  hearts  who 
were  building  the  new  world ;  her  irritation  over  her 
husband's  conduct  in  the  Erard  matter;  her  discontent 
with  Chicago.  The  reason  for  her  act  did  not  lie 


y/ 

190  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

ultimately  in  any  of  these  causes ;  it  lay  in  her  own 
soul.  Now  she  knew  the  unlovely  truth. 

Could  she  care  ?  A  wayward  instinct  prompted  her 
to  tell  this  acquaintance  who  had  happened  to  search  her 
heart  deeply,  that  she  could  care,  if — .  But  she  was 
afraid.  Let  him  think  her  merely  a  craving  ego !  His 
truth-telling  had  made  her  hard.  She  would  offer  no 
more  excuses.  She  would  accept  her  poverty  of  soul  and 
take  her  freedom. 

"  Well,"  she  said  at  last,  "  it  is  very  chill.  I  am  going 
to  my  room.  Good-by,  Mr.  Jennings." 

She  gave  him  her  hand  and  let  him  keep  it  for  an 
instant  while  she  wondered  at  him,  and  "at  the  other 
kind  that  accepts."  He  opened  his  lips  as  if  to  speak, 
then  squared  himself  stiffly  and  dropped  her  hand. 

"  Good-by,"  he  muttered,  and  strode  down  the  steps 
to  the  edge  of  the  bluff  where  the  moonlight  was  peep 
ing  through  the  thickets.  In  old  days  at  college,  some 
had  called  him  the  Saint,  and  some  the  Blasphemer. 


CHAPTEE   XI 

JOHN  WILBUR  unwittingly  brought  about  the  crisis  he 
wished  to  avoid.  Monday  morning,  on  his  way  to  the 
city,  he  called  at  the  house  of  his  clergyman,  —  Dr. 
Driver,  a  divine  celebrated  locally  for  his  eloquence, 
for  the  prosperity  of  his  parish,  and  for  his  influence 
over  successful  business  men  and  their  fashionable 
wives.  It  seemed  to  John  Wilbur  that  his  wife's  con 
dition  was  one  that  demanded  the  services  of  a  spiritual 
physician,  and  he  explained  the  case  briefly  to  his 
minister. 

Consequently  Mrs.  Wilbur  had  scarcely  reached  her 
home  after  the  visit  in  Lake  Forest  before  Dr.  Driver's 
card  was  brought  to  her.  Thinking  that  he  had  come 
probably  for  some  assistance  in  church-work,  she  went 
down  to  the  drawing-room  at  once  without  laying  aside 
her  wraps  or  hat.  Dr.  Driver  was  a  tall,  sallow-faced, 
black-moustached  man,  who  wore  his  thick  black  hair 
brushed  away  from  his  forehead  a  little  affectedly. 
His  bony  figure,  protruding  under  the  correct  black 
coat,  made  many  awkward  lines.  Dr.  Driver,  after  the 
experience  of  years  in  ministering  to  fashionable  par 
ishes  in  Minneapolis  and  Chicago,  could  not  be  called 
uncouth,  yet  Mrs.  Wilbur  always  saw  in  him  the  earnest, 
raw  young  man  from  the  seminary,  his  white  eyelids 

191 


192  THE   GOSPEL   OF    FKEEDOM 

glued  in  the  fervour  of  extempore  prayer,  his  white  linen 
cravat  creeping  up  over  the  large  collar  button  in  his 
wrestling  with  his  thought.  He  had  been  successful  — 
that  appealed  to  his  congregation ;  they  liked  a  man 
to  be  successful  in  whatever  "  line "  of  "  work "  he 
had  chosen.  Dr.  Driver's  success  had  been  marked  by 
such  tangible  evidences  as  the  two  "  handsome  edifices  " 
erected  during  his  pastorates  in  Minneapolis  and  Chicago. 
His  florid  style  did  not  appeal  to  Mrs.  Wilbur,  but  her 
husband's  admiration  of  him  and  the  fact  that  many  of 
their  friends  were  prominent  in  his  church  had  overcome 
her  aversion  to  the  minister's  rhetorical  flights  and  mixed 
metaphors.  Dr.  Driver  was  also  a  poet,  and  one  or  both 
of  his  little  volumes,  "  Little  Lyrics  of  Grace,"  or  "  Grow 
ing  Leaves,"  might  be  found  on  the  tables  of  his  parish 
ioners;  and  in  the  columns  of  the  Thunderer,  cheek  by 
jowl  with  Capitalist  Dick's  American  editorials,  appeared 
Dr.  Driver's  patriotic  songs. 

The  pastor  gathered  his  coat-tails  about  his  thin  thighs, 
seated  himself  on  the  edge  of  a  divan,  and  opened  a 
general  conversation  upon  the  new  house  and  Mrs.  Wil 
bur's  gratification  in  her  husband's  wonderful  success. 
Mrs.  Wilbur  listened,  perplexed  by  this  general  harangue, 
for  the  regular  pastoral  call  had  occurred  scarcely  a 
month  before. 

"  Mrs.  Wilbur,"  he  exclaimed  at  last,  his  eyes  rising 
above  her  head  restlessly,  "what  a  privilege  is  yours, 
with  the  ability  and  the  means  to  further  the  moral  and 
material  welfare  of  this  great  city !  Chicago  is  the  great 
home  for  intelligent  woman.  Here  she  moulds  the  desti- 


THE   GOSPEL    OF   FREEDOM  193 

nies,  the  civilization  of  millions  of  eager  human  beings. 
In  our  vast  city,"  his  voice  rose  and  fell  in  prophetic 
intonations,  "woman  does  not  creep  as  the  humble  hand 
maiden  of  charity ;  she  organizes  immense  reforms,  she 
institutes  educational  benefits,  she  advances  shoulder  to 
shoulder  with  men  in  a  common  fight  against  the  demons 
of  want  and  vice." 

His  victim  sat  in  mystified  silence.  She  saw  before 
her  eyes  the  new  church,  three  blocks  away  on  a  neigh 
bouring  boulevard,  its  auditorium  in  the  form  of  a  theatre, 
with  the  stage  crowned  by  a  high  pulpit,  which  Dr.  Driver 
mounted.  Behind  were  rows  of  shiny  organ  pipes,  and 
below  at  the  wing  a  small  door  that  led  to  the  club-rooms, 
and  eating-rooms,  and  kitchens,  and  carpeted  assembly- 
rooms,  all  in  polished  oak  panelling  and  furniture,  with 
every  modern  device  of  the  up-to-date  house  of  God. 
The  doctor  should  be  there,  exhorting  his  comfortable 
audience,  not  here  distracting  her  mind  during  the  hours 
she  needed  most  for  clear  thinking  and  clear  feeling.  Dr. 
Driver  came  soon,  however,  to  more  specific  matter. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Wilbur,"  he  lowered  his  voice  and  eyes 
simultaneously.  "I  have  prayed  over  you,  wondering  if 
you  have  realized  to  the  fullest  your  powers  and  oppor 
tunities  to  do  God's  work." 

"I  trust  so,"  his  parishioner  replied  impatiently,  feel 
ing  that  now  he  was  drawing  to  the  purpose  of  his  visit. 

"Are  you  not  planning,"  Dr.  Driver's  voice  grew 
deeper,  more  threatening,  "in  your  breast  to-day,  this 
very  hour,  to  abandon  God's  work  in  his  appointed  past 
ure,  to  turn  back  like  Lot's  wife  from  the  vineyard  before 


194  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

you,  to  forsake  husband  and  home  in  the  pursuit  of  vain 
pleasures,  of  a  vainglorious  conceited  refinement  of  cult 
ure?  Are  you  not  planning,  I  ask  you  as  a  daughter 
of  the  church,  to  make  a  god  of  your  intellectual  belly  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wilbur's  face  flushed  resentfully.  "  My  husband 
has  told  you  of  my  proposal  to  leave  his  home,"  she 
interposed  in  the  torrent  of  rhetoric. 

"  Yes.  He  came  to  me  in  the  travail  of  his  soul  this 
morning,  to  his  spiritual  counsellor,  for  my  poor  help  in 
his  trouble." 

"He  did  a  very  foolish  thing,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  replied 
haughtily. 

"I  trust  not  so.  You  love  your  husband,  you  loved 
your  little  child,  Jiis  child,  and  you  will  love  others  yet 
to  be  —  " 

At  another  time  Mrs.  Wilbur  could  have  tolerated  Dr. 
Driver's  exhortation  as  merely  an  exhibition  of  well- 
meaning  bad  taste.  To-day  she  was  capable  of  blas 
phemies  against  the  bed-rock  truths  of  her  fellowmen. 
If  they  goaded  her,  stung  her  like  little  flies,  she  would 
give  the  lie  to  her  heart  and  commit  outrages. 

"  I  prefer  not  to  discuss  this  question."  She  rose  to 
close  the  interview,  relying  upon  the  frigid  dignity  that 
she  could  throw  into  her  smallest  action,  to  restrain 
this  earnest,  vulgar  man. 

"It  is  my  duty  to  warn  you,  to  counsel  you,  to  say 
that  in  abandoning  this  mighty  world  of  opportunity  to 
which  God  has  called  you,  the  help  of  these  millions  of 
souls,  —  "  he  stretched  out  his  arms  in  his  favourite  gest 
ure  of  immensity  and  numbers. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  195 

Mrs.  Wilbur  asked  with  a  wicked  smile,  —  "  Suppose, 
Dr.  Driver,  I  have  no  interest  in  'millions/  that  I  believe 
it  is  a  foolish  labour  to  advance  the  masses  and  thus  help 
create  more  '  millions '  ?  Suppose  I  believe  it  is  morally 
wrong  to  make  humanity  all  a  common  dull  level,  and 
that  we  ought  to  strive  to  produce  quality,  beauty,  single 
great  lives  of  distinction  ?  " 

This  wholesale  tossing  aside  the  axiom  of  his  life 
staggered  the  doctor.  "Not  long  to  bring  to  God  all 
these  souls  ?  "  He  laboured  in  search  of  an  argumenta 
tive  basis. 

"  Mere  size,  mere  numbers,  mere  collections  of  human 
beings  who  may  be  made  industrious,  neat,  thrifty,  and 
happy  —  that  picture  doesn't  stir  my  enthusiasm  any 
more  than  mere  miles  of  dwellings  or  mere  millions  of 
bushels  of  wheat ! " 

She  was  becoming  tangled  in  an  argument,  when  Molly 
Parker  dashed  in  to  take  her  away  to  a  reception.  Dr. 
Driver  left  at  once,  and  to  his  wife  that  night  he  con 
fided  his  belief  that  poor  Wilbur  had  a  heavy  cross  in 
his  misguided  wife.  She  was  a  proud,  haughty,  self- 
interested,  and  intellectually  vain  creature,  and  if  she 
left  her  home  to  indulge  her  conceit  in  "European 
salons"  she  would  be  lost.  It  is  needless  to  add  that 
in  a  few  days  it  was  reported  quite  openly,  "Jack 
Wilbur's  wife  is  going  to  leave  him";  or,  as  some  put 
it  with  an  additional  touch  of  imagination,  "going  to 
cut  off  with  that  painter  fellow." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  chatted  with  her  friend  as  the  carriage 
carried  them  swiftly  to  the  Kemsens'  that  afternoon, 


196  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

strangely  at  peace  with  herself,  and  determined.  Her  at 
tention  was  preternaturally  keen,  as  if  her  mind  was  eager 
to  gather  last  impressions,  to  fortify  itself.  She  ran 
across  Erard  in  her  first  assault  on  the  crowded  rooms 
at  the  Kemsens',  and  she  lingered  to  talk  with  him  alone 
for  the  benefit  of  a  roomful  of  curious  people,  well 
aware  that  she  was  adding  powder  to  her  husband's 
guns. 

"I  called  on  you  the  other  evening,"  Erard  remarked 
with  intention. 

"  Yes  ?  "    Mrs.  Wilbur's  voice  expressed  no  concern. 

"  And  you  were  out.     I  shall  not  call  again." 

"Perhaps  it  is  just  as  well,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  answered 
indifferently.  "Anyway,  I  shall  be  going  away  soon." 

"  So  you  have  made  up  your  mind.  What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  yourself?" 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  What  can  a  woman  who  has 
dabbled  in  life  all  round  do  with  herself,  except  begin 
over  and  dabble  all  round  again  ?  " 

"Why  don't  you  make  a  profession  of  freedom,  now 
you  have  given  up  trying  the  straddle  ?  " 

She  did  not  like  the  phrase,  "  profession  of  freedom  " : 
it  sounded  like  a  fine  way  of  saying  "  abandon  yourself." 
Just  then  some  one  touched  her  elbow,  and  Erard  was 
swallowed  up  in  the  surrounding  hubbub.  She  never 
saw  him  again  in  Chicago. 

She  found  herself  talking  excitedly,  yet  with  a  grate 
ful  calm  at  her  heart.  The  room,  and  the  people  who 
were  constantly  addressing  her,  seemed  very  unsubstan 
tial.  They  belonged  to  her  house  on  the  boulevard,  to 


THE   GOSPEL   OF    FREEDOM  197 

the  traction  stocks,  the  little  child  who  had  gone,  to  the 
drunken  governor  who  had  sold  himself  to  Mephisto,  to 
Dr.  Driver,  and  the  rest  of  it.  They  were  not  a  part  of 
her  now,  and  she  was  gay  in  the  thought. 

" Molly,"  she  said  at  last,  "dismiss  Thornton  Jen 
nings  and  go  fetch  your  wrap.  I  am  going  to  drive  you 
home." 

Molly  Parker  faltered,  "  You  are  going  to  tell  me  some 
thing  dreadful." 

But  Mrs.  Wilbur,  if  she  had  anything  dreadful  on  her 
mind,  appeared  serene  on  their  drive  home.  She  talked 
about  Jennings  a  good  deal,  and  watched  her  companion 
slyly.  "  Would  you  like  to  leave  Chicago  now,  Molly  ?  " 

Miss  Parker  blushed  and  kissed  her.  At  the  iron  gate 
of  the  Wilbur  house  she  stepped  out  of  the  carriage, 
directing  the  coachman  to  drive  Miss  Parker  home. 
Then  as  if  to  communicate  a  last  nothing,  she  put  her 
head  through  the  window,  and  said  hurriedly,  "Molly, 
I'm  going  away  soon.  I  promised  to  let  you  know." 

She  hurried  up  the  steps  without  waiting  to  look 
at  the  startled  face  in  the  carriage.  It  had  been  a 
hard  day,  but  her  nerves  were  strung  to  a  high  pitch 
that  evening,  for  she  foresaw  another  long  debate  with 
her  husband.  The  sooner  the  final  break  was  made  now 
that  Dr.  Driver  had  been  taken  into  their  confidence 
the  better. 

"John,"  Mrs.  Wilbur's  eyes  glittered  as  she  began, 
when  they  were  alone  in  the  library,  "  that  was  unkind 
of  you,  and  foolish,  to  send  Dr.  Driver  here  to  talk 
to  me." 


198          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

"  I  hoped  he  could  make  you  see  the  wicked  and  un 
christian  character  of  the  act  you  are  contemplating." 
He  understood  faintly  that  his  scheme  had  failed; 
indeed,  had  driven  her  farther  away. 

"  We  must  finish  now  at  once,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  continued. 

"Have  you  anything  to  complain  of  in  your  house  or 
in  me?"  Wilbur  asked  defiantly.  The  other  evening 
she  might  have  said  in  answer  something  about  the  trac 
tion  stocks.  But  after  Jennings  had  read  her  soul  so 
easily,  she  refrained.  For  one  didn't  leave  one's  hus 
band  because  he  was  callous  in  business.  Was  she  the 
kind  of  woman  to  shrink  from  such  misfortune?  He 
went  on,  "  You  don't  realize  the  blow  you  are  dealing  me 
and  yourself  in  all  the  talk  your  step  will  make.  It  will 
be  in  the  papers  twenty-four  hours  after,  that  you  have 
run  away." 

Now  that  she  had  discovered  what  dread  was  upper 
most,  it  was  easy  enough  to  urge  her  suit.  She  had 
thought  over  this  question  and  had  a  plan  ready.  If  he 
had  been  unconscious  of  the  possible  injury  to  himself 
and  his  ambitions,  her  task  would  have  been  harder. 

"  I  don't  think  you  need  worry  about  that,"  she  replied 
a  little  disdainfully,  "for  your  friends'  sympathy  will 
be  entirely  with  you,  and  nobody  else  need  know  until 
later.  All  I  ask  is  to  leave  you  —  it  may  be  said  for  a 
few  months,  as  other  wives  leave  their  husbands,  to 
travel.  The  house  can  go  on,  and  doubtless  mother  will 
be  glad  to  remain  here  and  —  " 

"  A  nice  plan,"  Wilbur  interrupted  hotly,  "  to  make 
me  a  blind  for  your  goings-on  with  another  man." 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  199 

Mrs.  Wilbur  flushed  quickly,  then  became  white  and 
calm  again.  "You  persist  in  that  insult.  Very  well, 
then,  you  can  proceed  at  once  to  a  divorce.  But  I  think 
that  you  will  see  how  much  more  sensible  my  plan  is. 
Later  you  can  get  a  divorce  quietly." 

"  Would  you  ever  come  back  ?  "  Wilbur  asked  wistfully. 

"  I  don't  believe  that  you  will  want  me  to,"  she  replied 
more  gently,  wondering  at  the  man.  "If  I  did  return 
it  would  be  a  new  beginning,  a  real  marriage.  I  can't 
tell  about  that.  I  must  be  free  first." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  you  are  much  of  a  slave  !  " 

"No?"  she  was  minded  to  refer  to  the  money  that 
had  been  used  to  build  their  home,  but  refrained. 
Suddenly  passion  broke  through  her  calm  manner.  "  A 
woman  isn't  a  slave  —  there  is  no  question  of  it  —  when} 
husband  and  wife  are  bound  together.  It  makes  110 
difference,  —  the  desert,  the  mechanical  routine  of  living, 
—  then.  She  can  starve  well  enough.  But  when  they 
begin  to  live  and  to  think  apart  —  when  I  saw  you  and 
judged  you  and  condemned  you,  then  all  the  real  free 
dom  was  yours,  and  I  was  degraded." 

"  You  use  big  words  like  the  women  nowadays.  When 
did  we  separate  and  what  l  degradation  '  do  you  bear  ?  " 

"  We  separated  when  you  took  ill-gotten  gains  —  no ! 
I  mean  I  saw  that  we  had  made  a  mistake  then,  we  had 
never  really  married,  and  from  that  time  I  began  to 
want  —  some  other  satisfaction,  and  to  hate  Chicago  and 
all  there  is  in  it." 

Wilbur  waited,  disturbed  and  mystified. 

"Yes,"  she  went  on  passionately,  "and  degraded  too. 


200          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

It  is  degradation  to  live  another  one's  life,  or  to  live 
with,  him  and  bear  his  children  —  unless  they  come  as 
the  natural  fruit  of  common  passion." 

"  Oh !  that's  it  —  you  want  your  husband  to  be  always 
honeymooning  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  exhausted.  "  Otherwise,  like 
Eve,  a  woman  discovers  that  she  is  naked,  and  is 
ashamed.  But  this  is  useless.  The  fact  remains  —  we 
are  divorced,  and  /  must  go  and  get  my  life.  You  may 
say  all  the  bitter  things  you  wish.  But  I  am  not  one 
who  accepts,"  she  ended,  with  a  thought  back  on  what 
Jennings  had  told  her. 

"  So,"  said  Wilbur  cynically,  from  his  position  of  the 
partner  to  whom  marriage  was  naturally  more  episodic 
than  ultimate.  "You  believe  a  woman  should  experi 
ment,  should  break  her  vows  if  she  finds  after  three 
years  of  apparent  happiness  that  she  prefers  to  run 
about  Europe  and  moon  over  pictures  to  sitting  by  her 
husband's  fireside.  Does  a  vow  mean  nothing  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  her  voice  broke,  "  a  great  deal.  But  I  shouldn't 
advise  you  to  hold  me  to  it." 

"  You  never  loved  me,"  Wilbur  wandered  back  to  the 
vital  point.  "You  took  me  because  you  were  bored 
or  because  you  couldn't  marry  Erard,  or  something  of 
the  sort." 

"  That  is  a  lie,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  answered  composedly.  "  If 
I  had  known  then  that  on  such  provocation  you  would 
make  such  low  guesses  —  I  should  not  have  married 
you."  She  remembered  the  scene  in  the  Paris  salon, 
the  solemnity  of  it,  and  a  wave  of  compassion  for  him 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  201 

and  for  herself  overcame  her.  "  Don't  kill  it  all,  John  ! 
Let  us  part  with  some  respect  and  honour  for  one 
another,  not  like  a  man  and  his  mistress." 

"  Go ! "  Wilbur  exclaimed,  excited  by  the  impalpa 
bility  of  the  reasons  for  this  absurd  and  unexpected 
wrong  he  was  made  to  suffer.  "  Go !  and  don't  think  I 
shall  follow  you  and  beg  you  to  come  back.  No,  if  you 
crawl  here  along  the  boulevard,  and  pray  to  be  forgiven, 
I  will  shut  the  door  on  you  and  curse  you." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  opened  her  lips,  then  checked  herself. 
"Good-by,  John.  I  am  sorry,  so  sorry  you  cannot 
understand." 

Wilbur  laughed  sneeringly.  "  But  your  sense  of  duty 
is  so  keen ! " 

"  I  must,  must,"  she  broke  into  tears.  "  I  am  suffocat 
ing  here.  I  may  be  all  wrong.  I  shall  suffer  for  it !" 

"I  hope  so."  He  watched  her  leave  the  room  and 
grasp  the  handrail  of  the  stairs  to  support  herself.  An 
old,  savage  instinct  surged  up  in  him,  the  desire  to  kill 
what  you  could  not  keep  in  any  other  way.  That  she 
should  calmly  decide  to  walk  out  of  his  life  after  three 
years  of  marriage,  for  no  provocation  that  any  reasonable 
man  would  consider  for  a  moment,  —  that  was  intolerable ! 
And  society  merely  enfeebled  the  men  who  had  to  stand, 
as  he  stood,  passive.  He  would  like  to  feel  his  arms 
about  her,  his  hand  at  her  throat,  and  to  have  her  know 
that  for  hate  as  well  as  for  love,  she  was  his  for  ever. 

But  she  walked  out  of  his  life. 


PART   III 
CHAPTER   I 

LATE  in  August  Mrs.  Wilbur  sailed  for  Europe.  When 
the  ship  dropped  down  the  bay,  and  all  the  cables  with 
the  past  were  cut,  a  sense  of  great  joy  carne  over  her. 
As  the  last  sultry  breeze  from  the  heated  land  gave 
place  to  the  deep-sea  air,  her  imagination,  which  had 
been  torpid  for  many  months,  awoke  and  saluted  the 
future.  She  was  filled  with  the  romantic  excitement 
that  usually  only  the  first  voyage  creates,  —  never,  alas ! 
to  be  repeated.  No  other  experience  in  life  is  compar 
able  to  this  passing  from  the  actual  and  seemingly  vul 
gar  into  the  spot  where  the  fancy  has  been  wont  to  play. 
Europe  has  lived  so  long  and  so  passionately,  and  has 
gathered  to  itself  such  a  chain  of  memories,  that  it  casts 
a  spell  over  semi-barbarian  hearts. 

She  sat  long  into  the  nights  brooding,  while  the  power 
ful,  silent  beast  beneath  her  feet  plunged  on  into  the  new 
world,  —  brooding  sensuously  like  the  gourmand  return 
ing  from  the  parched  deserts  who  dreams  of  the  fat  in 
the  pleasant^  valleys  beyond.  And  now  that  the  cables 
were  cut,  and  she  was  free  like  this  ship  to  hasten  to 
her  haven,  the  past  troubled  her  little.  These  nights 
on  the  ocean  she  let  her  will  relax.  Why  strive  ?  She 

202 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  203 

would  gorge  and  be  satisfied  and  pay  the  penalty.  There, 
beyond  in  the  soft  darkness,  was  what  would  satisfy. 

Instinctively  she  had  chosen  to  go  to  Florence,  at  least 
for  the  present;  this  spot  of  passionate  delights  called 
her  authoritatively.  She  arrived  on  a  warm,  dark  night. 
The  gloomy  buildings  loomed  into  the  black  heavens ; 
beneath  their  walls  resounded  the  staccato  note  of  Flor 
entine  life.  She  slept  that  night  with  the  rush  of  the 
Arno,  as  it  shot  the  Ponte  Trinita,  singing  in  her  ears,  a 
tumultuous  lullaby.  At  daybreak  the  Arno  called  her  to 
the  window  while  it  sang  its  swift  song  to  the  morning. 
The  gentle  hills  across  the  river  were  gilded  with  floods 
of  warm  light.  A  stately,  solitary  pine  lined  the  hori 
zon  above  the  Boboli  gardens.  Up  beyond,  San  Miniato 
flashed  back  to  her  a  gleaming  message.  The  city  was 
yet  cold  and  silent  in  the  midst  of  the  bursting  loveli 
ness  of  the  day.  Her  heart  beat  warmly,  intoxicated 
with  the  realization  of  her  desires.  It  was  the  impossi 
ble  human  dream  made  real.  Towards  it  she  stretched 
out  her  hands,  hungeringly. 

Later  she  went  down  into  the  city,  threading  her  way 
between  the  black  palace  walls  to  the  open  fields  with 
out  the  gates,  where  she  could  seize  the  heavens,  and  the 
hills,  and  the  glorious  full  body  of  light  descending  to 
the  earth.  Yet  before  long  she  had  wandered  back  to 
the  Uffizi,  ravenous  for  another  sensation.  Tremulously 
she  mounted  the  long  nights  of  the  palace  stairs  and 
penetrated  the  outer  rooms.  At  last  she  had  come  to 
her  joy,  —  when  patience  with  subterfuges  had  ceased, 
and  her  soul  was  eager  to  worship. 


204  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

The  pictures  seemed  so  peaceful !  They  had  been  wait 
ing  there  quietly  all  these  dreary  years  of  her  life,  and 
now  they  spoke  to  her  calmly,  with  the  clear  utterance 
that  comes  of  removal  from  things  temporal.  She  aban 
doned  herself  to  one  passion  after  another,  in  greedy 
enjoyment,  with  mystical  sensuousness  of  feeling;  then 
making  a  futile  effort  to  remember  what  she  had  learned 
critically  four  years  before,  she  would  try  to  reason  with 
herself.  But  all  the  months  of  renunciation,  of  arid 
living  without  beauty,  took  their  revenge  in  a  passionate, 
uncontrollable  mastery.  The  pieces  of  light  and  colour 
before  her  eyes  were  not  pictures :  she  was  not  prome 
nading  past  dead  squares  of  canvas  as  she  had  done  so 
often  before.  She  seized  specially  upon  each  shining 
soul  that  lay  before  her,  with  the  delight  one  has  in  the 
discovery  of  an  illuminating  thought,  or  in  the  still  richer 
consciousness  of  an  expressive  person.  She  remembered 
Erard's  phrase  about  pictures,  —  "  documents  of  old  pas 
sions."  Not  documents,  not  dead,  her  soul  asserted ;  but 
piercingly  alive,  godlike  revelations. 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  laughed  at  her  own 
ecstasy.  Two  or  three  pictures  were  all  that  she  could 
contain  in  this  abandonment.  When  these  had  burned 
deep  into  her  and  the  rush  of  emotion  had  subsided  a 
little,  she  left  the  gallery,  content  with  the  knowledge 
of  their  presence,  of  their  nearness.  Idling  along  the 
narrow  quais  by  the  Ponte  Vecchio  she  let  the  minutes 
slip  past  savouringly,  listening  to  the  human  note  of  the 
city,  and  watching  the  colours  of  the  walls  over  the  river 
under  San  Jacopo's  bell-tower. 


THE   GOSPEL    OF    FREEDOM  205 

The  afternoons  were  too  precious  to  spend  in  the  city. 
The  surrounding  hilltops  from  San  Miniato  to  Bello 
Sguardo,  from  Fiesole  to  Cappa  Monte,  called  her.  One 
solitary. villa  near  the  brow  of  Bello  Sguardo,  with  a  broad 
terrace  hanging  over  the  valley,  took  her  fancy,  and  she 
resolved  to  rent  it.  From  its  lofty  terrace  under  the 
solemn  row  of  cypresses  she  would  hold  Florence  in  her 
arms.  And  across  the  black-ribboned  Arno  the  hills  of 
Fiesole  beckoned  her  eyes  on  to  the  Apennines.  While 
she  made  arrangements  to  take  possession,  she  came  here 
in  the  twilight  to  brood  over  the  city  at  her  feet.  Thus 
the  days  passed ;  she  did  not  know  that  she  was  alone. 

Bit  after  bit  the  past  life  adjusted  itself  in  her  mind, 
as  if  fate  were  arranging  inevitably  the  values.  Words 
out  of  that  past  came  to  mind.  She  remembered  the  say 
ing  of  a  shrewd  friend,  who  had  dealt  much  in  a  service 
of  twenty  years  with  the  conscious,  striving  women  of 
the  day.  "  Why  have  you  earnest,  brilliant  young  women 
lost  the  instinct  that  suppresses  the  ego  ?  You  are  ter 
rible  egotists.  You  run  about,  seeking  frantically  for 
entertainment  for  your  restlessness."  Yes,  she  demanded 
much ;  Jennings  had  said  it  too.  But  her  heart  was  full 
now,  and  she  smiled. 

Again  she  thought  of  Erard,  the  "  Ishmaelite  "  as  some 
one  had  called  him.  One  said  in  the  sanctity  of  effort 
"those  denationalized,  consciously  devoted  artists  find 
at  the  end,  after  all  their  pains  to  prepare,  that  there  is 
nothing  to  express.  Creation  comes  not  that  way."  Per 
haps  not  "  creation,"  but  living  and  satisfaction :  in  the 
sanctity  of  effort  one  did  not  understand  such  matters. 


206         THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

She  smiled  again,  and  looked  at  the  purple  hill-slope  of 
Setignano. 

"  You  are  very  beautiful,"  the  wise  friend  had  also 
said.  "  But  you  do  not  care !  I  wish  you  women  who 
long  to  be  appeased  cared  for  your  good  looks.  A  little 
vanity  in  a  woman  is  a  safe  thing."  Yet  she  was  glad 
to  feel  that  her  beauty  existed,  like  the  olive  below  the 
terrace,  like  the  golden  wave  of  hair  in  that  picture  in 
the  Pitti ;  for  it  made  the  earth  richer. 

And  Molly  Parker's  last  words  came  back  to  her. 
"I  had  rather  you  had  run  off  with  Erard,"  Molly  had 
remarked  irritably.  "At  least  they  say  a  great  passion 
is  sometimes  beyond  control,  but  to  slip  off  this  way 
because  you  are  bored !  "  Again,  later,  —  "  It  would  be 
better  if  you  had  some  'vocation/  as  they  call  it."  She 
remembered  that  she  had  protested:  "I  have  the  voca 
tion  to  be  myself."  To-day  she  laughed  at  her  pompous 
words.  She  needed  no  excuses ;  the  earth  smiled  at  her. 

Erard,  even,  lay  outside  her  soul  with  the  others  in 
that  curious  world  she  had  forsaken.  Sometime  she 
should  see  him,  but  not  yet.  The  days  sped  in  peace. 
She  made  ready  her  villa  where  peace  should  be  per 
petuated.  A  Chicago  acquaintance,  catching  sight  of 
her  standing  radiant  before  the  frescoes  in  the  chill 
chapel  of  the  Carmine,  wrote  home :  "  Our  Mrs.  Wilbur 
seems  very  happy  with  herself.  You  wouldn't  think 
she  was  as  good  as  divorced.  She  hasn't  even  a  decent 
gloom." 

An  end  to  this  rapt  mood  came  at  last.  Business 
necessitated  a  journey  to  Paris.  Also  a  letter  from  the 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  207 

irrepressible  Molly  gave  Mrs.  Wilbur  warning  that  she 
was  not  to  be  left  to  her  own  devices.  "  I  am  going 
over  to  join  you.  You've  got  to  have  some  one  to 
bully  and  look  after  you  and  pet  you.  I  don't  approve 
of  you  and  never  shall,  but  I  can't  let  you  be  foolish 
all  by  yourself.  .  .  .  What  are  your  plans  —  to  wander 
about  there  with  a  maid  from  hotel  to  pension,  or  take 
an  apartment  and  smoke  and  drink  and  try  to  make  a 
man  of  yourself  ?  "  (For  Miss  Parker's  ideas  about  the 
modern  woman  were  still  crude.)  "  Plans  !  "  Mrs.  Wil 
bur  exclaimed.  That  was  the  futile  gabble  she  had  tried 
to  escape.  One  lived  without  plans.  As  she  prepared 
to  leave  her  city  of  delights  she  sighed ;  something 
warned  her  that  the  ecstasy  of  freedom  would  never 
flood  so  high  again. 

In  the  last  calm,  warm  night  she  sat  for  hours  on 
the  terrace  of  her  villa,  fearing  to  leave  her  dearly 
bought  peace.  When  she  returned  to  the  hotel,  wind 
ing  down  between  the  walled  orchards  to  the  heated 
city,  the  Arno  was  singing  under  the  arches  of  the 
Trinita.  But  the  song  sounded  deep  and  solemn. 


' 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  pungent  Latin  odours  emanating  from  the  wine 
shops  along  the  boulevards  stirred  Mrs.  Wilbur's  mem 
ory  caressingly.  This  was  Paris,  —  she  dwelt  on  the 
word  fondly.  How  eloquent  it  had  been  of  joy! 

She  had  left  the  noisome  American  quarter  around 
the  Opera  House,  where  Paris  turns  a  pandering  face 
to  the  tourist,  and  selected  a  little  hotel  on  the  Quai, 
opposite  the  great  palace.  Her  business  with  the  solemn 
old  lawyer  sent  by  her  elder  brother  was  quickly  trans 
acted,  and  at  the  close  she  let  fall  a  few  pungent  sen 
tences  to  be  carried  to  her  family.  "My  husband  is 
welcome  to  my  fortune.  I  am  glad  he  is  good  enough 
to  use  it.  Fortunately  I  have  enough  beside.  My 
family  must  endeavour  to  bear  the  disgrace  —  I  will 
help  them  by  keeping  out  of  sight."  The  lawyer 
talked  divorce,  but  when  he  found  her  dumb,  departed. 
"Pretty  Walter,"  as  Mrs.  Wilbur  named  her  brother, 
was  not  so  easily  disposed  of.  He  had  come  all  the  way 
from  the  great  novelist  Maxwell's  place  in  Surrey  to 
look  into  her  situation. 

Walter  Anthon  had  had  a  good  time,  all  these  years 
of  his  sister's  experimentation ;  he  had  kept  his  family 
informed  of  the  growing  circle  of  celebrities  whose  finger 
tips  he  was  permitted  to  touch.  He  might  have  made  a 

208 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  209 

booklet  of  the  dainty  notes  he  had  received  from  Max 
well,  the  sage  novelist,  from  Sandy  Short,  the  super 
cilious  literary  maid  of  all  work,  and  from  Henderson, 
the  celebrated  author  of  closet  dramas.  Even  Gaston 
had  condescended  to  invite  him  for  a  week  to  his  lodge 
in  Scotland.  The  crowning  glory  of  his  career,  however, 
had  been  when  the  famous  African  poet  had  met  in  his 
rooms  the  great  Maxwell.  He  described  the  encounter 
epically  to  his  sister.  "Maxwell  was  moody  and  sunk 
in  gloom.  The  African  was  fierce  and  taciturn.  I  trem 
bled.  But  I  plied  Maxwell  with  champagne  —  he  never 
drinks,  you  know,  but  this  night  at  my  entreaty  he  con 
sented  to  empty  five  bottles.  Then  at  midnight,  the  poet 
laid  himself  down  before  the  fire  on  my  bearskin,  and 
such  talk  — "  The  saga  here  stayed  in  mystery. 

After  entertaining  his  sister  with  a  list  of  his  con 
quests  in  letters,  he  came  to  personal  affairs.  "Are 
you  quite  alone?"  he  asked,  glancing  at  the  orderly 
hotel  salon  with  the  little  bedroom  at  one  side. 

"  Yes.     I  hate  maids.     It's  very  jolly  being  alone." 

"You  had  better  get  one  at  once.  You  don't  want 
to  identify  yourself  with  the  horrid  women  who  run 
about  alone  and  put  up  at  hotels  and  drink  whiskies 
and  talk  horse.  There  are  some  women  of  the  nicest 
families  in  England  who  do  that  kind  of  thing  now,  — 
are  very  free.  But  we  Americans  cannot  afford  to  go 
so  far." 

"Couldn't  you  join  me  this  winter,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  sug 
gested  mischievously,  "  and  keep  house  in  Florence  ? 
The  proprieties  would  be  appeased  then." 


210         THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

"No,  no,  —  not  possibly,  ma  soeur"  Walter  Anthon 
twisted  his  moustache  rapidly. 

"Well,  then,  you  mustn't  offer  advice." 

"  My  dear  sister,"  Anthon  seized  his  vanishing  chance, 
"  you  will  not  be  so  distressingly  vulgar  as  to  put  your 
self  in  the  way  of  further  —  relations  with  Erard,  I  — " 

This  iteration  of  Erard  from  one  end  of  America  to 
Europe  stirred  Mrs.  Wilbur's  wrath.  "I  don't  know 
where  Mr.  Erard  will  be  this  winter.  I  am  not  in 
communication  with  him.  But  if  he  should  care  for 
my  society,  I  should  certainly  see  him."  After  a 
moment  she  added  maliciously,  to  throw  oil  on  the 
fire,  "And  the  considerations  you  mention  would  not 
prevent  me  from  doing  more." 

Walter  Anthon  rose  majestically.  "We  should  cut 
you,  every  one." 

"Remember  that  I  am  still  Mrs.  Wilbur,  legally  at 
least,"  she  retorted.  Then  forgetting  her  resentment, 
she  continued  in  a  friendly  tone.  "  Walter,  why 
shouldn't  we  be  frank  with  one  another  ?  I  shall  not 
spoil  your  little  game  in  London.  You  won't  find  me 
a  social  burden.  I  don't  give  a  penny  for  your  preju 
dices,  but  it  may  comfort  you  to  know  that  I  am  wait 
ing  for  an  old  friend  to  join  me.  Now  let  us  be  good 
acquaintances.  Don't  feel  called  upon  to  meddle  with 
my  leaving  John.  You  will  not  have  to  suffer  for  that. 
And  I  don't  believe  that  you  have  any,  even  romantic 
grounds,  for  sorrowing  over  my  morals.  Your  own  will 
probably  keep  you  busy.  Come  and  see  me  when  I 
ana  settled.  If  you  don't  like  the  tone  of  my  establish- 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM  211 

ment,  keep  away.  We  really  haven't  enough  in  common 
to  quarrel  about.  Now  take  some  tea."  She  rang  the 
bell  and  stood  opposite  him  to  laugh. 

Walter  Anthon  took  his  tea  amicably.  "Who  is  the 
friend?" 

"Molly.  Perhaps  you  will  look  in  on  us  occasion 
ally." 

"  Uncle  Seb  left  her  some  money  ?  " 

"  Lots,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  exaggerated. 

"  I  didn't  hear  that,"  he  mused. 

"  But  you  needn't  bother  about  her  now,"  she  smiled 
placidly  at  him.  "  Molly  has  developed ;  she  won't  play 
with  you  now." 

Anthon  left  the  subject.  His  appreciation  of  his 
sister  rose  in  true  British  fashion  in  proportion  to  the 
snubbing  she  administered.  He  offered  to  present  some 
of  his  set.  But  Mrs.  Wilbur  gaily  declined  the  privilege. 

"No,  thank  you!  Celebrities  bore  me.  I  don't  care 
to  dine  with  the  title-page  of  a  magazine." 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  he  went  away,  feeling  as 
if  he  had  been  treated  like  a  small  boy.  Mrs.  Wilbur 
laughed  to  herself  that  afternoon,  while  she  ran  about 
from  shop  to  shop,  or  stopped  to  gaze  in  the  windows, 
"  like  any  vulgar  American." 


Mrs.  Wilbur  decided  to  wait  for  Molly  in  Paris,  where 
she  had  a  number  of  small  matters  to  attend  to.  When 
the  sombre  days  of  early  November  came  on,  she  spent 
many  hours  at  the  Louvre.  One  morning  she  was  stand- 


212  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

ing  in  a  small  deserted  room,  before  a  Holbein  portrait, 
marvelling  at  an  art  which  seemed  more  irrevocably  lost 
than  most,  —  at  the  power  of  the  sure  hand  that  stiffly 
traced  a  human  face,  with  the  simplest  detail,  and  left 
it  there  for  centuries,  a  living  criticism  of  character ! 

"  Not  an  iota  of  power  lost,  is  there  ? "  She  was 
hardly  surprised  on  turning  to  find  Erard  in  their  old 
rendezvous. 

"I  saw  you  come  in  here  from  the  Long  Gallery," 
he  explained,  "  and  I  made  a  wager  with  myself  that  you 
were  looking  for  this  Holbein. " 

"Yes,"  she  blushed  in  spite  of  herself.  "I  have 
seen  certain  pictures  all  these  years,  just  as  they  hung 
on  the  walls,  frames  and  all.  But  they  have  rehung  so 
many  of  them,  that  I  miss  some  old  friends." 

"Oh,  yes,  the  directors  set  the  fashion  in  pictures. 
They  have  an  attic  full  of  canvases  up  stairs,  and  every 
now  and  then,  when  the  fancy  takes  them,  they  whisk 
an  old  friend  off  the  walls  and  replace  him  with  some 
piece  of  rubbish  they  have  discovered.  Of  course  the 
big  ones  stay,  like  this  fellow,  only  they  have  to  walk 
about  from  room  to  room." 

Then  they  were  silent,  each  at  a  loss  how  to  take  up 
the  conversation.  Erard  had  met  her  as  if  it  were  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  to  find  her  here.  At 
last  he  said  brusquely,  —  "  So  you  found  your  way  back 
again." 

"  Yes,"  she  replied  weakly,  wondering  what  he  knew 
of  the  intermediate  processes ;  what  gossip  he  had  heard. 
His  next  remark  was  made  as  much  to  the  portrait 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  213 

before  them,  into  which  he  suddenly  plunged  his  face, 
as  to  herself. 

"  You  concluded  that  we  are  right,  —  we  who  care 
solely  for  sensations  and  ideas." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  felt  chill  at  this  summary  of  her  emo 
tions.  "Ah,  well,"  he  continued,  using  his  glasses  on 
the  ruff  of  the  Holbein  man,  "  it  was  just  as  well  to  make 
the  experiment,  even  if  it  wasted  four  years.  Having 
satisfied  yourself  that  the  duties  and  privileges  of  normal 
society  don't  amuse  you,  you  will  never  be  bothered 
again.  You've  got  that  behind  you." 

The  woman  in  Mrs.  Wilbur  suddenly  realized  how 
actually  she  was  cut  off  from  the  "  duties  and  privileges 
of  normal  society,"  and  was  not  altogether  so  complacent 
in  the  thought  as  Erard  assumed.  "  I  am  not  planning  a 
future,"  she  replied  with  an  attempt  at  lightness.  Erard 
turned  from  the  picture  and  looked  at  her  deliberately,  as 
if  to  say,  "You  are  in  my  hands  now,  my  lady."  His 
manner  was  placid;  he  was  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  a  suc 
cessful  solution  to  an  intricate  problem.  He  repeated  the 
resulting  proposition  again  with  greater  emphasis  for 
her  benefit. 

"  I  mean  that  if  you  could  content  yourself  with  mere 
activity,  with  bringing  children  into  the  world,  and 
conducting  charities  and  clubs,  it  would  be  foolish  to 
attempt  anything  else.  But  having  tried,  —  " 

"  And  failed,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  interrupted  sombrely. 

"  Having  tried  that  so-called  moral  existence,"  Erard's 
voice  was  domineeringly  emphatic,  as  if  drilling  a  refrac 
tory  pupil,  "and  found  it  incomplete,  you  will  never 


214  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

have  doubts  about  the  other  occupation  of  cultivating 
and  enjoying  your  wits." 

Thus  she  had  enrolled  herself  under  his  banner. 
There  need  be  no  further  talk  about  the  matter.  They 
sauntered  away  from  the  Holbein  room  into  the  Long 
Gallery.  In  the  dim  distance  where  the  perspective  lines 
of  the  picture-covered  walls  converge,  the  usual  conglom 
erate  public  was  passing  to  and  fro.  A  party  of  Ameri 
cans  was  being  "  put  through  the  Louvre  in  three  hours." 
As  Erard  and  his  companion  skirted  the  huddling  mob 
of  apathetic  men  and  disturbed  women,  they  could  hear 
the  cicerone  shouting :  "  Ladies  and  shentlemen,  this  is  a 
Teetian,  one  of  the  ten  greatest  pictures  in  the  world.  It 
is  valued  at  one  hundred  fifty  tousand  dollar."  There 
upon  the  mob  swayed,  from  the  common  impulse  to  look 
in  one  direction ;  then  the  voice  of  the  conductor  shouted 
again  :  "This  is  by  Kubens,  the  great  Flemish  painter; 
the  third  lady  at  the  right  is  a  picture  of  his  wife." 
The  bit  of  personality  seemed  also  to  arouse  the  languor 
of  the  herd;  but  in  a  moment  the  set  look  of  vacant 
wonder  settled  over  the  faces  once  more. 

"  Thus/'  commented  Erard,  "  the  run  of  the  world  take 
life.  They  hear  a  collection  of  names  and  a  piece  of 
gossip;  and  they  look  and  pass  on." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  thought  that  something  might  be  said  on 
the  other  side,  at  least  for  the  intermediate  people,  but 
she  accepted  easily  once  more  Erard's  oracular  position. 
He  had  not  forced  her  to  join  the  connoisseurs  of  life; 
indeed,  four  years  ago,  he  had  advised  her  to  become  one 
of  the  herd. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF  FBEEDOM  215 

They  looked  casually  at  one  or  two  more  pictures, 
Erard,  to  his  disciple's  surprise,  delivering  new  opinions 
quite  contrary  to  those  she  had  imbibed  four  years  ago. 
All  his  criticism  tended  now  towards  psychology ;  it  was 
a  process  of  explaining  why  the  human  animal  enjoyed, 
not  a  means  of  making  him  enjoy  more  completely  with 
sympathetic  enthusiasm.  She  reflected  that  Erard  had 
been  writing  and  publishing  and  had  theories  to  main 
tain.  In  a  general  way  she  felt  that  he  was  less  the 
artist,  the  sympathizer  and  creator,  and  more  the  pedant. 
He  laughed  at  her  tremulous  excitement  over  pictures,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  ecstasy  she  had  felt  more  or  less 
ever  since  that  first  morning  by  the  Arno  evaporated.  She 
saw  that  her  talk  was  gush,  and  was  ashamed.  He  made 
her  feel  that  fine-art  was  only  a  wonderful  trick,  like 
the  conjurer's  devices,  to  be  cleverly  detected  and  classi 
fied.  He  pawed  a  picture,  figuratively,  as  M.  Berthelot 
might  paw  a  human  animal  in  measuring  its  abnormality. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  "it  must  be  time  for  dejeuner. 
I  have  to  look  over  some  pictures  at  three.  I  have  a 
commission  to  execute  for  a  Chicago  family.  Don't  you 
want  to  see  some  fine  Monets  ?  " 

She  felt  humiliated  in  his  eyes  when  she  said,  "  Yes, 
but  I  can't  ask  you  to  lunch  with  me.  I  am  alone  at  my 
hotel." 

He  shot  a  quick  glance  at  her.  She  hadn't  sloughed 
off  the  small  prejudices  yet.  "We  can  goto  a  restaurant 
on  the  rue  de  Bivoli  —  that  will  be  on  the  way." 

As  they  left  the  Salon  Carre  he  pointed  out  a  French 
woman  who  was  passing  on  the  arm  of  an  elderly  man. 


216  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"That  is  the  famous  Claire  Desmond.  She  was  for 
years  Dampiere's  mistress.  He  picked  her  up  in  Brit 
tany  and  used  her  as  his  model  until  she  grew  to  be 
impossible.  She  is  a  character  in  the  Quartier."  He 
went  on  to  relate  one  or  two  anecdotes  of  the  picturesque 
Claire. 

Though  Mrs.  Wilbur  thought  herself  far  from  prudish, 
her  notions  of  good  breeding  were  evidently  out  of  place 
in  the  new  life  her  companion  was  showing  her.  Erard 
was  not  coarse  by  nature,  but  in  the  milieu  he  had  culti 
vated,  the  amatory  passages  of  his  neighbours  had  their 
passing  interest.  Art  was  intimately  influenced  by  sex : 
indeed,  in  his  extravagant  moods,  Erard  was  inclined  to 
attribute  all  art  effort  to  the  sexual  instincts.  He  sus 
pected  Mrs.  Wilbur  of  having  provincial  prejudices  about 
naked  speech  that  needed  correction ;  for  he  did  not 
propose  to  change  his  habitual  expression  to  suit  the 
squeamishness  of  a  constant  companion. 

They  gained  the  hall,  and  paused  before  the  Botticelli 
frescoes.  Then  Mrs.  Wilbur  turned  and  swept  haughtily 
down  the  stone  stairs,  lingering  for  a  minute  before  the 
rushing  Victory.  Such  art  was  naked  as  men  were  naked 
in  the  childhood  of  the  race.  That  state  of  simplicity 
~J  could  never  come  again.  The  nakedness  of  Erard 
seemed  to  her  like  impotent  curiosity. 
f  She  might  come  to  accept  this  attitude,  also,  and  see  no 
mystery  in  man  and  woman  more  than  the  mystery  of  two 
sensual  animals.  But  she  shuddered  at  the  idea.  That 
would  strip  the  world  of  one  necessary  covering  for  its 
sordidness.  She  looked  up  at  the  noble  Victory,  feeling  the 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  217 

form  of  the  goddess  through,  the  garment  of  stone.  Then 
she  glanced  at  Erard,  who  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  end 
of  the  staircase.  She  was  not  willing  that  that  male, 
with  his  little  unshapen  body,  should  discuss  sex,  —  a 
part  of  her  which  she  shared  with  the  goddess  above,  — 
in  his  disillusioned  manner. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  dejeuner  put  them  in  accord,  however.  A  bottle 
of  good  wine  brought  out  evidences  of  human  comrade 
ship  in  Erard.  He  talked  over  his  winter's  work,  in 
which  he  assumed  her  cooperation.  He  made  her  take 
her  notebook  and  jot  down  titles  and  references,  laugh 
ing  at  her  heedless  reading.  She  was  to  make  the 
drawings  of  architectural  details  for  the  new  book.  Then 
they  discussed  several  excursions,  one  especially  to  a 
chateau  near  Orleans  where  there  were  said  to  be  some 
Leonardo  drawings.  As  they  walked  down  the  avenue 
to  the  picture  dealer's,  Mrs.  Wilbur  was  surprised  to  find 
how  far  she  had  gone.  It  had  not  been  possible  to 
parley  with  Erard ;  he  had  taken  everything  for  granted. 

They  passed  the  Opera  House.  She  remembered  the 
night  when  Wilbur  had  carried  her  off  her  feet  with  his 
plans  for  making  a  fortune.  That  emotion  seemed  quite 
dead  now ;  she  was  thankful  to  escape  so  cheaply.  Dear 
Uncle  Sebastian  had  made  it  possible  for  her  to  become 
a  privateer  once  more,  —  to  take  the  step  in  a  queenly 
fashion  without  haggling.  She  blessed  him  for  enabling 
her  to  trip  lightly  whither  she  would. 

At  last  Erard's  talk  and  her  musings  ceased  at  the 
door  of  the  dealer.  Once  inside  the  portieres  which 
closed  the  little  gallery,  Mrs.  Wilbur  noticed  with  a 

218 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  219 

shock  of  surprise  three  familiar  faces ;  there  were  the 
Mills —  father,  mother,  and  daughter.  Erard  had  said 
nothing  about  meeting  these  Chicago  patrons  of  art  in  the 
gallery.  Perhaps  he  had  neglected  to  mention  the  fact 
through  pure  indifference;  perhaps  he  had  a  subtler 
reason  for  not  warning  her. 

Mrs.  Wilbur  advanced  timidly,  angry  at  herself  for  her 
lack  of  ease.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  actually  met 
any  of  her  old  acquaintances  since  her  rupture  with  her 
husband.  Recovering  her  self-command  quickly,  she  de 
termined  to  take  the  matter  in  her  old  aggressive,  im 
posing  style.  She  bowed  stiffly,  and  spoke.  Evidently 
the  Mills  were  disconcerted  on  their  side.  The  father 
turned  away  awkwardly,  as  if  suddenly  interested  in  a 
small  canvas  in  the  corner.  Mrs.  Mills  bowed  coldly  and 
advanced  to  receive  Erard  with  emphatic  cordiality.  The 
daughter,  putting  her  lorgnette  affectedly  to  her  eyes, 
swept  the  room,  including  Mrs.  Wilbur,  in  a  gross  stare. 
Then  suddenly  perceiving  Erard,  she  brushed  past  Mrs. 
Wilbur  without  a  look,  and  stood  beside  her  mother. 

Mrs.  Wilbur  was  stung  by  the  snub.  These  Mills 
were  good,  plain  people  —  he  had  been  one  of  Kemsen's 
junior  partners  —  who  had  only  lately  had  money. 
She  had  rather  patronized  them  in  Chicago,  especially 
the  daughter,  whom  she  had  entertained  several  times. 
They  had  built  a  house  a  mile  above  the  WTilburs  and 
in  the  Chicago  sense  they  were  close  neighbours.  Evi 
dently  her  case  was  judged  in  Chicago,  and  had  gone 
against  her  by  default.  Her  character  was  now  the 
property  of  such  people  as  the  Mills,  who  could  take  the 


220  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

position  of  guardians  of  society !  She  walked  about  the 
little  room  with  as  much  indifference  and  composure  as 
she  could  assume.  She  would  have  liked  to  flee,  but 
pride  held  her  there  in  her  discomfiture.  Erard,  she 
thought,  was  watching  her  curiously,  all  the  time  talk 
ing  lightly  with  Miss  Mills.  Had  he  set  this  trap  for 
her, — the  cad!  and  was  he  now  amusing  himself  with 
watching  her  emotions  ?  Or  did  he  wish  to  give  her 
an  object-lesson  in  the  term  "burning  your  ships  "  ? 

The  dealer  appeared  at  last,  and  suggested  that  the 
party  should  enter  his  private  room  where  the  pictures 
in  question  were  assembled.  The  Mills  followed  the 
dealer,  passing  directly  in  front  of  Mrs.  Wilbur  without 
noticing  her  presence.  Mr.  Mills  did  the  act  clumsily ; 
his  wife  severely ;  the  daughter  airily. 

"Won't  you  come  with  us,  Mrs.  Wilbur?"  Erard 
paused  to  ask. 

"  Thank  you,  no.  I  find  enough  to  interest  me  here," 
she  managed  to  reply. 

Erard  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  if  to  say,  "  You  should 
have  calculated  the  cost  of  all  this  beforehand.  No  use 
to  get  into  a  temper  about  it  now"  He  tiptoed  after 
his  patrons. 

She  thought  that  she  had  calculated  all  the  costs,  and 
although  the  actual  experience  was  more  brutal  than 
the  imagined,  she  tried  to  think  that  she  cared  little 
for  the  snub  itself.'  But  she  had  meant  to  be  discreet, 
and  now  she  knew  that  in  ten  days  Chicago  gossips 
would  have  a  pointed  corroboration  of  their  surmises. 

She  would  like  to  go  up  to  this  good  Mr.  Mills  and 


THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  221 

say,  "I  am  not  this  Erard's  mistress j  indeed  I  am 
not  low  enough  for  that !  " 

Then  she  smiled  at  herself,  and  stilled  her  tumultuous 
feelings,  pretending  to  examine  a  greenish-red  Eegnoir 
that  was  propped  against  the  wall.  One  doesn't  cut  a 
straight  path  to  freedom,  she  reflected,  without  paying 
for  it. 

Secretly  she  longed  to  sneak  out  of  the  place  before 
they  returned.  It  caused  her  such  a  thumping  at  the 
heart  to  go  through  with  even  this  ordeal,  trifling  as  it 
was.  But  how  could  she  face  Erard,  if  she  confessed  to 
a  consciousness  of  all  the  implications  ?  Yet  when  she 
heard  Mr.  Mills's  honest  voice,  —  "  Well,  Marthy,  seven 
thousand  dollars  is  a  good  deal  to  pay  for  that  red  and 
yellow  haystack," —  and  Mrs.  Mills's  doubtful  tones, 
"  But  Mr.  Erard  considers  it  a  paying  investment,"  — 
then  Miss  Mills's  higher  notes:  "Oh,  pa,  you  mustn't 
look  at  it  that  way ;  Monet  is  making  a  great  stir  now  ; 
Mrs.  Stevans  has  three  of  his.  We  must  have  at  least 
one,  and  some  Pizarros,  and  a  lovely  red  Regnoir,"  — 
Mrs.  Wilbur  fled  into  a  little  side  cabinet,  pressing 
herself  closely  into  the  recess  made  by  the  portieres. 
She  could  see  the  women  dart  questioning  glances  about 
the  empty  room,  as  if  expecting  to  find  their  victim 
again.  Presently  they  crossed  the  gallery  and  disap 
peared,  Erard  following  them  and  caressing  each  tem 
perament  with  the  suitable  argument.  After  all,  she 
might  as  well  have  fled  before  as  to  sneak  into  a  corner 
this  way.  Erard  would  think  she  had  given  in,  and 
might  drive  off  with  the  Mills. 


222  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

When  she  had  given  them  time  enough  to  get  away 
she  walked  towards  the  entrance  and  met  Erard,  who 
was  evidently  returning  for  her.  He  had  divined  her 
ruse,  and  that  was  worse  than  all. 

"  I  thought  you  knew  the  Mills  ?  "  he  remarked  coolly, 
as  they  turned  into  the  crowded  boulevards.  Mrs.  Wil 
bur  hated  him  violently  for  one  moment.  If  there  were 
only  one  phrase  which  would  express  contempt,  disgust, 
despair  —  everything ! 

"  I  have  met  them,"  she  forced  herself  to  answer  in 
differently. 

"Simple  people;  quite  a  comedy,"  Erard  observed. 
"  Shall  we  walk  up  the  Champs  Elysees  ?  This  sunset 
will  be  splendid  from  the  arch." 

She  wralked  on  in  silence  at  his  side  for  some  minutes. 
The  little  Paris  world  was  out  to  enjoy  the  good  mo 
ments  of  November  sunlight,  gaily  forgetful  of  all  the 
shivering  it  had  endured  since  the  last  public  appearance 
of  the  sun.  At  the  great  brasseries  along  the  boulevards 
men  and  women  were  seated  before  their  untasted  bocJc  or 
caf£,  luxuriating  in  the  popular  street  theatre  that  could 
be  had  for  a  few  sous.  Some  men  with  silk  hats  pushed 
back  on  their  heads  were  scribbling  letters  or  jour 
nalistic  copy,  in  the  casual  fashion  of  Parisian  life. 
There  were  other  little  groups  of  twos,  a  man  and  a 
woman,  one  of  the  two  generally  talking  earnestly, 
while  the  other  listened  dumbly.  In  a  way  Mrs.  Wilbur 
felt  that  she  and  Simeon  Erard  ought  to  be  seated  at 
such  a  table,  bound  together  as  they  were  by  some  kind 
of  a  tie.  Perhaps  the  time  would  come  when  she  should 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FEEEDOM  223 

"s. 

be  besieging  him  over  a  bock  on  the  boulevard,  in  low, 
concentrated  words. 

"Why  did  you  omit  to  tell  me  who  was  to  be  at 
the  dealer's?"  she  said  at  last,  her  resentment  having 
cooled. 

"  It  didn't  occur  to  me,"  Erard  replied  with  assurance, 
"  and  if  it  had,  I  shouldn't  have  considered  it  a  matter 
of  enough  importance  to  mention.  It  was  an  affair  of 
business  for  me,  an  affair  of  interest  and  instruction  for 
you.  Not  a  social  matter,  it  seems  to  me." 

He  gave  no  more  attention  to  her  ruffled  feelings,  and 
began  to  talk  about  what  was  being  done  at  the  studios ; 
the  movements  in  impressionism  since  her  last  visit  in 
Paris;  the  last  two  salons  and  the  Glasgow  school;  a 
new  dealer  in  Dutch  and  Belgian  pictures.  He  talked 
well,  too  glibly  in  fact,  as  if  he  had  got  into  the  habit 
of  talking  and  writing  for  publication.  His  conversa 
tion,  however,  was  well  calculated  to  soothe  any  irrita 
bility  that  might  be  left.  She  was  so  eagerly  interested 
in  the  new  ventures  in  art,  that  she  could  not  harbour 
personal  pique,  especially  against  the  man  who  roused 
her  mind. 

They  came  out  on  the  Place  de  la  Concorde,  which 
was  brilliant  in  the  last  light  from  the  west.  To  Mrs. 
Wilbur  this  spot  was  always  an  inspiriting  sight.  As 
they  turned  into  the  broad  avenue,  where  the  rush  of 
carriages,  the  labouring  omnibuses  slowly  toiling  up 
the  slippery  ascent,  filled  the  vast  roadway  with  life, 
the  human  side  of  Paris  burst  upon  her.  It  was  also 
a  stupendous  human  machine  like  Chicago,  but  somehow 


224  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

vital  and  vitalizing.  It  was  not  grotesque.  Once  again 
she  was  in  the  current  she  desired  for  herself,  a  current 
of  thoughts,  emotions,  and  theories  where  the  world's 
ideal  imagery  was  the  essential  interest. 

Yet  something  was  different  in  her  at  the  end  of  this 
day  from  the  beginning.  She  was  not  so  sure  of  herself, 
so  clearly  removed  from  the  entangling  passions  of 
humanity.  She  should  have  been  capable  of  a  more 
lasting  resentment.  Erard  was  training  her  in  tolera 
tion  too  fast,  and  she  shrunk  from  the  logical  conclu 
sions  of  the  course  she  had  somehow  committed  herself 
to.  He  was  not  quite  master  yet.  This  suspicion 
of  coming  degradation,  of  gradual  lapse  from  her 
haughty  self,  troubled  her  momentarily,  and  rendered 
her  silent  and  depressed. 

Erard  wisely  left  Mrs.  Wilbur  to  herself  for  the  rest 
of  the  week.  They  had  arranged  to  make  the  Orleans 
excursion  on  the  following  Sunday.  On  that  expedition 
a  series  of  petty  accidents  delayed  them  until  by  the 
time  they  reached  the  chateau  the  sun  was  already  be 
hind  the  forest-trees.  The  chateau  was  full  of  interest 
ing  bric-a-brac,  which  detained  them  until  the  fading 
light  necessitated  an  immediate  examination  of  the 
drawings  they  had  come  to  see.  The  three  yellow  sheets 
were  laid  reverently  upon  a  green-baize  table  by  the 
custodian,  who  hovered  near,  suspicious  of  Erard's 
irreverent  familiarity  with  the  sacred  bits  of  paper. 

Erard  looked  at  them  hastily,  then  squatting  his 
elbows  on  the  table,  examined  each  one  with  a  glass,  line 
by  line,  and  lastly,  holding  the  drawing  to  the  light 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  225 

noted  the  signature.  "Impudent  forgeries,"  he  mut 
tered  at  last.  Mrs.  Wilbur  glanced  at  the  faded  draw 
ings  blankly.  "  They  are  called  Leonardo,  and  some  one 
has  copied  his  signature  pretty  accurately.  I  didn't 
believe  they  could  be  authentic,  but  I  supposed  they 
were  of  the  school  at  least.  See  here,"  he  said,  instruct 
ing  his  companion,  "you  can  tell  by  the  fingers  —  they 
are  roughly  finished  or  rather  entirely  unfinished.  The 
next  time  you  are  in  the  Louvre,  look  at  his  drawings, 
and  see  how  exquisitely  each  finger  is  done.  That  is 
enough  to  show  they  aren't  authentic.  But  if  you  want 
more  confirmation,  look  at  the  ears  —  " 

Mrs.  Wilbur  studied  the  drawings  attentively,  at  a 
loss  to  see  the  deep  significance  of  Erard's  rapid  remarks. 
At  last  Erard  threw  down  the  sheets  carelessly,  and 
handing  the  custodian  his  fee,  sauntered  towards  the 
entrance.  When  they  reached  the  gardens  he  observed 
casually,  "  There's  a  gate  here  somewhere,  worth  seeing, 
Moorish  they  call  it." 

By  the  time  they  had  found  the  bit  of  Moorish  build 
ing  encased  in  the  Gothic,  it  was  twilight,  and  as  they 
proceeded  to  their  carriage,  Mrs.  Wilbur  bethought 
herself  of  the  distance  they  were  from  Paris. 

"  Is  there  an  express  train  ?  "  she  asked,  hastening  her 
steps. 

Erard  looked  at  his  watch.  "  The  rapide  at  midnight," 
he  replied.  "  I  had  no  idea  we  should  take  so  long  in 
the  chateau ! " 

"  Is  there  no  other  train  ?  " 

Erard  shook  his  head.     "  And  we  can't  take  the  rapide. 


226  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

It's  beastly  getting  into  Paris  at  four  A.M.  There's  a 
good  hotel  at  this  end  of  the  town,  and  to-morrow  we 
can  take  an  early  train  and  see  Chartres  on  our  way 
home." 

He  spoke  unconcernedly,  as  if  on  the  whole  fate  had 
arranged  well  for  them.  Mrs.  Wilbur  still  walked  on 
hastily,  annoyed  at  her  own  carelessness,  and  perplexed. 
As  they  reached  the  entrance,  she  said,  coldly,  —  "I  think 
I  had  best  take  the  rapide.  We  can  go  to  the  hotel  and 
dine,  and  then  I  can  wait  at  the  station.  Perhaps  they 
will  telegraph  for  a  compartment  for  me." 

Erard  looked  at  her  quizzically.  "  As  you  like,  but  — 
we  shall  have  a  good  many  expeditions  to  make  sooner 
or  later,  and  you  can't  often  manage  to  return  the  same 
day  —  " 

She  made  no  reply,  suspecting  that  whatever  she  might 
say  would  seem  foolish  and  prudish  to  Erard.  It  distressed 
her  that  she  should  be  caught  again  so  quickly  in  these 
petty  matters  of  personal  propriety.  Yet  to  insist  upon 
making  a  disagreeable  night  for  herself  by  taking  the 
rapide  seemed  also  foolish,  as  if  she  made  too  much 
altogether  of  convention.  And  if  she  did  not  yield 
now  to  Erard's  mode  of  life,  he  would  force  her  to  it 
in  his  own  good  time.  The  only  alternative  would  be 
to  break  with  him  entirely ;  she  could  not  make  that 
sacrifice. 

i  The  midnight  journey  grew  more  distasteful  to  her 
than  ever,  once  in  the  old  hotel,  with  the  kindly  hostess 
bustling  in  and  out,  arranging  a  fire,  and  making  prepa 
rations  for  a  comfortable  dinner.  As  they  came  to  the 


THE   GOSPEL    OF   FREEDOM  227 

fruit  and  nuts  after  a  rich,  bourgeois  meal,  she  made 
up  her  mind  to  accept  the  position  and  get  the  fun 
of  it. 

"You  can  find  another  hotel  easily,  I  don't  doubt," 
Mrs.  Wilbur  remarked  tentatively.  "  For  I  think  I  shall 
have  madame  warm  a  chamber  for  me  —  " 

Erard  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  smiled.  "Very 
well,  as  you  wish." 

"As  long  as  I  remain  Mrs.  Wilbur,"  she  blushed 
quickly,  "  I  think  I  can't  be  quite  another  '  good  fellow.' 
I  have  some  obligations  to  do  the  silly  things  other 
people  do." 

They  had  no  further  talk  about  the  matter.  Erard 
had  practically  won  his  point;  she  knew  it,  and  after 
he  had  left  her  before  the  dying  wood-fire,  she  sat 
rather  despondent  in  the  gloom  of  the  deserted  salon. 
She  did  not  wish  to  make  loneliness  and  isolation  for 
herself  in  her  efforts  to  be  free,  and  she  was  not  pre 
pared  to  discard  altogether  the  observances  of  conven 
tional  society. 

To  be  sure,  Erard  was  not  like  other  men,  she  comforted 
herself  with  reflecting.  One  could  have  an  entirely  neu 
tral,  passionless  intercourse  with  him.  He  was  solely 
concerned  with  ideas  and  impressions,  and  considered 
persons  about  as  much  as  the  traveller  does  the  furnish 
ing  of  his  lodging.  They  were  either  suitable  for  his 
convenience  or  not,  and  his  interest  did  not  extend  be 
yond  the  limited  use  he  put  them  to.  When  she  betook 
herself  to  the  dusty,  unused  room  with  its  spacious  cur 
tained  four-poster  and  creaking  board-floor,  her  mind  still 


228  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

occupied  itself  with.  Erard.  Was  she  satisfied  to  have 
him  so  neutral?  If  he  had  been  an  impulsive,  pas 
sionate  man,  —  if  he  had  taken  his  inspiration  from 
the  suffering  she  had  undergone  at  the  picture-dealer's 
and  had  demanded  —  well,  more  than  discipleship,  he 
might  have  had  it.  She  was  not  mere  intellect,  far 
from  it ! 

She  lay  awake  in  the  still  room  pondering  that  wilful 
fancy.  If  he  had  forgotten  nothing,  extenuated  noth 
ing,  counselled  nothing ;  if  he  had  plead  for  the  greatest 
love  that  she  was  capable  of  giving,  he  might  have  been 
—  her  heart  fluttered  at  the  wild  idea  —  master  for  a 
long  day.  Some  little  solvent  would  touch  the  story  of 
their  lives,  and  transmute  the  relationship.  For  there 
are  times  when  it  is  better  to  carry  a  place  by  storm 
than  by  slow  siege.  How  foolish !  He  was  Erard,  and 
it  was  absurd  to  consider  him  sentimentally. 

When  Erard  called  for  Mrs.  Wilbur  the  next  morning, 
he  found  her  in  the  patronne's  cabinet,  chatting  viva 
ciously.  The  morning  was  superb,  inviting  them  to  a 
prowl  in  the  city.  After  dejeuner  they  took  the  train 
for  Chartres.  One  thing  suggested  another,  these  beauti 
ful  days  of  the  second  autumn,  and  it  was  late  Wednes 
day  night  before  Erard  left  Mrs.  Wilbur  at  her  hotel  on 
the  Quai.  When  she  entered  her  salon  she  found  Molly 
Parker  sitting  forlornly  before  the  grate. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Adela  ?  I  got  in  last  night," 
Molly  exclaimed  reproachfully. 

"  I  have  been  —  out  of  the  city,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  replied 
evasively. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  229 

"Not  with  Erard  and  alone!"  Molly's  mobile  face 
showed  quick  alarm. 

"Yes,"  her  friend  replied  stonily,  "with  Mr.  Erard 
and  alone." 

They  sat  looking  at  one  another,  afraid  to  strike  the 
new  note.  The  next  day  Mrs.  Wilbur  and  her  friend 
left  for  the  villa  on  Bello  Sguardo. 


CHAPTER  IV 

are  prominent  members  of  the  Art  Endeavour 
Circle,"  Miss  Parker  wrote  Thornton  Jennings,  after  a 
month  in  the  Villa  Rosadina.  "  I  may  say  that  we  have 
a  salon  for  the  young  Genius.  Erard  has  surrounded  us 
with  a  lot  of  little  Erards.  There  is  Salters.  He  is  a 
distinguished-looking  young  American  with  an  easy  in 
come  and  leanings  towards  art.  He  copies  Erard,  picks 
up  his  ideas  from  the  one  source  of  pure  criticism  —  at 
least  Erard  says  so,  —  and  then  dilutes  them.  Even  if 
Mr.  Salters  is  a  little  '  short '  of  ideas,  he  is  very  nice  and 
entertaining. 

"  To  pass  over  a  shabby  artist  who  has  quarrelled  with 
his  wife  and  can't  sell  his  pictures,  and  the  Gorgon  (she's 
Vivian  Vavasour  and  is  as  sour  as  her  articles  are  sweetly 
wordy),  we  come  to  Mary  Eleanor  Bradley,  the  last  enrol 
ment.  She  is  a  young  woman,  rather  portly,  with  a  puffy 
face  and  flaxen  hair,  who  speaks  very  intensely  and  slowly 
and  talks  all  the  time.  She  comes  from  a  good  family  in 
Philadelphia  and  has  been  in  some  college  or  other.  She 
made  up  her  mind  that  the  only  way  to  see  Europe  was 
to  come  over  alone  and  '  be  Bohemian.7  But  she  hasn't 
found  it  much  fun  so  far ;  she  is  trying  desperately  to 
hook  on  to  our  procession.  Erard  says  nay.  Pier  great 
feat  was  a  tour  in  Lombardy  with  Erard,  sans  chaperone, 

230 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

for  six  days.  Mr.  Erard  says  she  asked  him,  and  he 
couldn't  refuse  a  lady.  Then,  horrid  man!  he  smiles 
and  says  no  man  needs  a  chaperone  with  Miss  Bradley 
except  for  self-protection.  She  says  it  was  quite  roman 
tic,  and  'you  couldn't  do  it  with  a  man  — well,  who  was 
in  good  society.'  She  talks  a  lot  about  it ;  the  excursion 
makes  her  reputation  in  the  Art  Endeavour  Circle. 

"  This  Miss  Bradley  isn't  half  so  bad  as  she  sounds. 
I  believe  she  is  nice  enough  when  she  is  kept  under 
restraint.  She  treats  me  as  an  amiable  simpleton,  and 
we  get  on  splendidly.  If  she  escapes  soon  enough  from 
the  Circle  she  will  probably  settle  down  and  marry 
some  nice  little  man  who  won't  let  her  cross  the  street 
alone  after  five  in  the  evening. 

"Besides  these  parasites  who  drink  tea  and  take  up 
our  time  in  this  dear  Florence,  Erard  brings  us  better 
material  sometimes  —  young  French  poets  and  journal 
ists,  a  Jew  critic  on  a  London  paper  —  cosmopolitan 
celebrities  just  budding.  I  have  almost  forgotten  little 
Mr.  Anthon,  Adela's  younger  brother.  He  came  on 
from  Paris  last  week.  He  doesn't  approve  of  Adela 
and  thinks  I  should  lecture  her. 

"He  doesn't  know  that  I  am  tolerated  only  on  my 
good  behaviour  and  non-interference.  Erard  is  master 
now.  We  came  here  to  be  awfully  free  and  do  as  we 
liked,  but  we  have  to  work  hard  at  drawing  and  read 
ing  and  taking  notes  for  the  master.  You  ought  to 
see  your  regal  Mrs.  Wilbur  getting  up  at  eight  every 
morning  in  order  to  finish  her  tasks  and  have  some  time 
for  the  galleries.  Erard  has  a  most  useful  assistant,  all 


232  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

for  nothing.  For,  you  know,  it  isn't  painting  now,  — 
that  is  cheap,  but  it's  ideas  about  painting  — '  prehensile 
values,'  the  '  folly  of  humanism,'  the  '  receptivity  of  the 
sensorium,'  and  the  '  psychology  of  colour.'  We  are  en 
gaged  in  dissecting  art  and  in  stewing  the  remains  up 
into  little  dishes.  One  big  dish  the  cooks  are  busy  over 
now,  and  they  are  planning  to  go  to  Rome  to  put  in  the 
flavouring.  I  must  be  good,  or  I  shan't  be  invited. 
For  they  go  off  'for  business'  quite  by  themselves, 
and  aren't  bothered  by  conventionalities.  They  got 
'way  beyond  what  people  say  or  think, —  long  ago. 

"  Sometimes  it  is  dreary  enough,  this  talk ;  it  sounds 
like  so  much  gibberish.  Last  Sunday  they  invited  me 
to  go  to  Prato  with  them,  out  of  pure  kindness.  Erard 
got  started  on  'the  critic's  function,'  and  we  listened. 
He  said  that  well-informed  people  all  thought  alike  on 
art,  and  the  real  judges  (those  who  had  cultivated  their 
sensoriums  and  had  good  sensoriums)  always  agreed 
about  any  object  of  art.  Then  when  we  came  out  atop 
of  a  hill  before  a  lovely  valley  with  a  road  winding 
through  it,  he  began  to  experiment  on  us.  He  asked 
us  where  we  felt  the  road.  I  said  in  my  eyes,  but  Mrs. 
Wilbur  gave  the  correct  answer,  —  in  the  muscles  of  the 
forearm ;  then,  as  it  mounted  the  hills  beyond,  in  the 
muscles  of  the  legs.  They  tightened  up  sympathetically 
when  you  looked  hard  enough.  'Now,'  Mr.  Erard  said, 
'that's  the  way  the  artist  makes  you  feel  when  you  see 
the  road  he  paints.'  Some  one  told  me  that  the  psychol 
ogy  business  Erard  picked  up  from  Prudler,  the  young 
psychologist  at  Bonn,  whom  he  met  in  Switzerland  two 


THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  233 

years  ago,  just  as  the  measuring  toes  and  ears,  and  all 
that,  was  taken  from  an  old  Italian.  I  don't  know; 
they  all  seem  much  bothered  about  the  original  source 
of  ideas.  Erard  accuses  the  Gorgon  of  living  on  7wm, 
intellectually,  and  others  say  they  both  live  on  Symonds. 

"  Heigho !  it's  a  queer  world,  this,  —  but  it  is  dread 
fully  like  Chicago  in  some  respects.  I  wonder  where  it 
will  all  end.  This  lovely  Florence,  how  sweet  it  would 
be  without  the  Art  Endeavourers !  My  pals  are  old  Luisa, 
our  protecting  house-saint,  and  the  contadina  who  helps 
her,  little  Pinetta." 

Molly  Parker's  jocular  account  of  her  friend's  doings 
was  not  exaggerated.  Mrs.  Wilbur  had  found  the  work 
suggested  for  her  by  Erard  ready  at  hand  and  more  and 
more  engrossing.  Whither  it  led  she  did  not  trouble  her 
self  about,  any  more  than  she  speculated  on  the  probable 
outcome  of  her  present  manner  of  life.  Erard  him 
self  had  come  down  to  Italy  when  the  winter  was  well 
on,  and  though  he  flitted  up  and  down  the  peninsula 
on  one  errand  or  another,  his  centre  of  operations  was 
Florence.  There  he  had  established  himself,  in  a  suite 
of  rooms  on  the  Piazza  San  Spirito,  where  the  sun  lay  for 
long  hours,  —  as  usual,  in  the  one  completely  suitable 
environment.  Even  Molly  Parker  could  not  find  fault 
with  his  taking  up  his  abode  just  there  within  a  ten 
minutes'  rapid  walk  to  the  Villa  Rosadina,  nor  with  his 
frequent  visits,  which  never  seemed  aimless.  Yet  she 
felt  that  his  grasp  on  their  actions  grew  firmer  as  the 
weeks  passed :  "  we  think  Erard  and  feel  Erard !  " 

A  slight   diversion  was   created   by  Walter  Anthon's 


234  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

arrival.  His  "serious  news  "to  the  effect  that  "he  in 
tends  to  apply  for  a  divorce/'  was  received  indifferently 
by  his  haughty  sister.  Young  Walter  had  hoped  to  ar 
range  diplomatically  a  "  modus  vivendi " ;  indeed  the 
family  had  deputed  him  to  bring  his  sister  back  to  St. 
Louis.  Mrs.  Wilbur  laughed  at  his  solemnity.  She  even 
went  so  far  as  to  say  that  it  pleased  her  to  know  "Mr. 
Wilbur  wishes  a  divorce.  That  means  he  has  recovered 
from  his  blow,  consoled  himself.  It  has  come  so  quickly 
that  I  doubt  if  he  would  be  willing  to  make  any  other 
arrangements."  She  had  in  mind  the  ample  Mrs. 
Stevans.  "  If  he  has  consoled  himself  he  will  get  rid  of 
me  sooner  or  later.  And  it  will  be  easier  for  him  to  get 
rid  of  me  if  I  remain  away.  I  can  do  that  for  him  at 
least."  Nor  would  she  be  moved  about  her  property. 
"  I  gave  that  to  him  long  ago.  I  certainly  hope  he  won't 
give  it  up.  He  is  right-minded  and  might  have  foolish 
scruples,  but  I  shall  do  what  I  can  to  have  him  keep  it." 

"  The  shocking  scandal  of  it ! "  young  Anthon  moaned 
to  Molly  Parker.  "  Running  off  this  way  with  Erard." 

"  And  with  me,  you  forget.  I  hold  the  social  smelling- 
salts." 

"Does  she  mean  to  marry  him  ?" 

"Perhaps  Erard  doesn't  believe  in  marriage.  This 
arrangement  saves  him  from  any  matrimonial  monotony." 

"  Can't  you  take  a  stand,  and  bring  her  to  her  senses  ?  " 

"I  am  no  good  at  evangelizing,"  Miss  Parker  replied 
forlornly.  "  Adela  must  have  a  woman  around  to  say 
commonplace  things  to  when  she's  on  a  strain.  That's 
all  the  good  I  am.  She  hasn't  had  enough  of  the  Erard 


THE  GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  235 

dose  yet.  We'll  have  to  wait.  There  she  goes  now  with 
the  little  Brown  Rat."  They  could  see  from  the  terrace 
where  they  were  talking  a  cab  rolling  down  the  serpen 
tine  curves  of  the  hill. 

"Off  to  get  a  new  sensation.  Remember  all  your 
nagging  is  just  fuel  for  the  fire.  She  doesn't,  well,  care 
for  you,  and  anything  you  don't  want  her  to  do  must 
seem  particularly  nice." 

So  the  diplomat  returned  unsuccessful  to  his  London 
rooms  and  advised  the  family  to  get  what  they  could  out 
of  Wilbur  without  stirring  Adela  up. 

Yet  her  brother's  news  had  affected  her.  Erard  noted 
that  she  was  difficile  that  afternoon.  They  had  driven  over 
to  Santa  Croce  to  examine  a  bit  of  sculpture  in  one  of  the 
chapels.  The  chill  of  the  church  or  her  own  meditations 
depressed  Mrs.  Wilbur.  Then  Erard's  cold  little  epi 
grams  about  art  were  irritating.  The  precious  intoxi 
cation  of  that  first  long  look  on  beauty  had  faded 
rapidly.  Erard  had  taught  her  to  be  ashamed  of  such 
savage  satisfaction  5  but  groping  after  the  masculine  play 
of  intellect  was  painful.  Yet  her  career  was  marked  out 
for  her :  she  was  to  be  "  a  discriminator  of  fine  pleasures." 
Moments  of  regret,  however,  and  of  disappointment  as 
to-day,  intervened,  when  even  the  most  pitiful  creative 
effort  seemed  greater  than  profound  discernment.  Erard 
scoffingly  said  that  when  she  had  these  moods  she  was 
trying  to  see  "the  beyond." 

She  left  the  church  abruptly,  preferring  the  placid 
sunny  square  where  little  children  were  playing,  to  the 
damp  church  and  the  high  function  of  criticism.  She 


236  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

could  not  send  her  companion  away ;  so  the  two  strolled 
aimlessly  through  the  stone  passages,  echoing  faintly  with 
half-frozen  life,  out  to  the  bright  river  bank.  Even  the 
brilliant  sunshine  of  the  February  sky  gave  no  comforting 
warmth.  Erard  said  the  sun  appeared  for  the  effect  only. 
The  Arno,  too,  flowed  muddy  and  sullen,  sweeping  debris 
down  from  old  mountain  villages.  The  elements  of 
royal  splendour,  to  which  she  had  once  responded  tremu 
lously,  lay  before  her  eye,  but  she  was  not  stirred.  She 
thought. 

Later,  when  they  were  drinking  their  tea  in  the  villa, 
Mrs.  Wilbur  let  fall  the  thoughts  simmering  in  her  mind. 
Erard  was  doctoring  one  of  her  architectural  sketches, 
while  she  watched  his  skilful  hand. 

"A  lot  of  your  things  seemed  to  me  so  promising," 
she  mused. 

" '  Promising  '  —  disgusting  word,"  Erard  snapped. 
"  Youth,  a  few  years  between  puberty  and  manhood,  is 
filled  with  deceptive  lights,  which  are  taken  often  for 
true  fires.  The  period  of  physical  eruption  past,  the 
lights  fade  from  the  mental  horizon;  the  ambitious, 
imaginative  youth,  if  he  has  anything  in  him,  becomes 
a  scholar  or  a  dilettante." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  moved  uncomfortably.  What  her  woman's 
soul  hated  to  feel  was  that  Erard's  specifically  original 
and  creative  powers  had  never  been  great  and  were 
fated  to  decline  steadily,  growing  each  year  more  colour 
less.  It  was  a  slow,  inevitable  process  which  he  was 
powerless  to  arrest. 

"  It's  childish  to  think  there  is  any  spiritual  mystery 


THE   GOSPEL   OF    FREEDOM  237 

in  the  toy,"  Erard  continued.  "The  world,  too,  has 
grown  from  puberty  to  a  staid  maturity  where  it  cares 
first  for  a  fact.  In  hours  of  relaxation,  it  sighs  for  the 
dream  of  its  unsettled  years ;  but  give  it  a  poet  and  it 
laughs  at  his  boyishness  —  until  he  is  dead." 

"That  is  hateful,"  she  flung  these  words  into  the 
crackling  fire  which  lighted  the  lofty  room  sombrely. 

"  Only  because  you  invest  the  artist  with  a  romantic 
halo,"  Erard  insisted.  "  I  have  found  my  work  absorb 
ing  and  fruitful.  I  have  been  successful  in  it,  and  am 
encouraged  to  prosecute  my  ideas  and  publish  the  results. 
It  makes  little  difference  by  what  wicket-gate  we  ap 
proach  the  field :  the  problems  are  the  same.  And  the 
greatest  note  of  our  day  is  creative  criticism"  he  rose 
authoritatively  at  these  words,  —  a  phrase  which  was 
frequently  on  his  lips.  "Your  artist  should  be  busy 
over  his  technique.  So  far  as  intellect  goes,  he  is 
often  a  dumb  beast.  We  deal  with  ideas.  We  extract 
the  ideas,  press  out  the  sensations  peculiar  to  his  art. 
and  we  are  officiating  priests  between  him  and  the 
mob." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  remained  silent,  unappeased,  and  opening 
the  piano  she  struck  a  few  chords,  drawing  out  a  kind 
of  sad,  tinkling  music. 

Ah !  there  was  a  difference  between  great  criticism 
and  even  puny  art.  If  not  in  the  usefulness  of  the 
work,  in  the  man  behind  the  imagined  work,  and  the  soul 
to  whom  he  spoke !  There  was  a  halo  about  the  creator 
of  new  notes  of  loveliness.  She  had  been  fired  by  the 
picture  of  a  man  struggling  with  adversity  for  the  chance 


238  THE    GOSPEL    OF    FREEDOM 

to  announce  himself,  thrusting  himself  with  Napoleonic 
egotism  towards  his  great  work  that  should  justify  him 
and  his  disciples  before  the  world.  But  —  little  text 
books  on  art,  essays,  reviews,  even  this  book  which  was 
to  make  a  sensation  from  Berlin  to  Chicago  —  that  was 
hardly  a  justification.  Others  did  as  much  without 
all  this  stress  and  strain.  And  even  if  not  done,  the 
world  went  on  quite  wise  enough  without  a  little  more 
talk  about  European  culture. 

"  It  is  greater  to  create  than  to  comprehend,"  she  spoke 
out,  above  the  tinkle  of  the  old  piano,  urged  by  some 
reproach  in  her  soul.  "  We  are  all  blind,  blind  in  this 
weary  world,  and  we  are  groping  for  the  gods  who  deny 
themselves  to  us.  It  is  great  to  see  beyond,  to  know  the 
gods  even  faintly,  and  to  appease  the  hunger  of  others. 
More  than  that  it  is  man's  great  act,  the  revealing  of  him 
self  before  the  Master,  his  prayer  to  God  who  has  made 
him  with  appetites  and  passions,  and  has  made  him 
with  the  longing  to  see  and  the  power  to  dream.  That 
has — "  She  paused,  shrinking  from  completing  her 
thought  —  "brought  me  here  and  made  me  low." 

She  closed  the  piano,  and  walked  rapidly  up  and  down 
the  room.  Suddenly  she  lit  a  candle  and  motioned 
Erard  to  follow  her  into  an  adjoining  lumber-room. 
He  looked  about  disgustedly  at  the  dusty  room,  the 
neglected  canvases.  In  one  corner  stood  an  easel,  and 
on  it,  unframed,  his  picture  of  Adela  Anthon,  which 
with  coarse  irony  Wilbur  had  recently  sent  to  her 
bankers.  They  looked  at  the  face,  Mrs.  Wilbur  holding 
the  candle  above  their  heads. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  239 

"  I  couldn't  do  that  now,"  Erard  admitted,  squinting 
at  the  picture  critically. 

"  No ! "  Mrs.  Wilbur  assented  decisively.  "  And  that," 
she  spoke  fiercely,  "  the  power  behind  that  picture  mas 
tered  me,  deluded  me  —  it  is  sad  —  defeat  —  " 

A  flare  of  wind  blew  out  the  light. 

"  You  are  wrong,"  Erard  checked  her  calmly,  "  and 
foolish.  The  power  is  still  mine,  and  —  " 

He  moved  as  if  to  touch  her.  She  walked  absently 
past  him  into  the  firelight,  and  placing  the  candle  unlit 
on  the  table,  sank  into  a  chair. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  she  answered  listlessly,  bury 
ing  her  gaze  again  in  the  fire. 

Erard  watched  her  savouringly,  exactly  conscious  of 
her  beauty  and  her  power.  She  was  to  be  his  in  due  and 
proper  season.  To-night  she  had  stirred  his  sluggish 
senses,  much  as  a  superb  actress  might  impose  herself, 
at  one  remove. 


CHAPTER   V 

MRS.  WILBUR'S  disappointment  rarely  expressed  itself 
in  words.  She  worked  with  seeming  interest  at  the 
tasks  Erard  suggested,  and  at  odd  times  furbished  her 
Latin  or  read  Italian.  The  grey  silver  olives  about  the 
villa  turned  to  a  delicate  green  j  the  drab  earth  yielded 
to  flowers.  Each  week  the  sun  lay  longer  on  the  terrace 
above  the  city  walls,  until  at  last  in  early  April  a  blast  of 
heat  declared  the  winter  had  passed.  From  time  to  time 
Mrs.  Wilbur  had  accompanied  Erard  in  his  Sittings,  and 
the  last  of  April  Molly  Parker  joined  them  on  an  expedi 
tion  towards  Home,  which  she  described  as  "  a  triumphal 
procession  in  the  cause  of  art  and  freedom." 

Erard  was  apparently  testing  his  power  by  carrying 
Mrs.  Wilbur  away  in  the  face  of  society.  He  had  finally 
hoodwinked  the  virtues  through  the  person  of  this  high- 
minded  and  beautiful  woman.  She  should  read  to  him 
when  he  was  weary,  write  notes  and  examine  records, 
make  bibliographies  and  provide  the  drawings  he  had 
decided  to  use.  She  should  talk  and  stir  him  up  when 
he  was  dull,  and  above  all  she  should  admire  him,  bear 
incense,  and  fear  his  sharp  tongue.  That  she  was  tall 
and  impressive  and  interesting  in  person  was  all  to  his 
liking.  It  was  pleasant  to  touch  silk,  to  feel  a  softness 
and  high-bred  delicacy  always  about  one.  Even  the 

240 


THE   GOSPEL    OF    FREEDOM  241 

rapid,  low  speech  which  was  characteristic  of  her,  was 
suited  to  his  needs.  She  never  touched  a  nerve  disagree 
ably,  except  when  at  rare  intervals  she  lashed  out  wildly, 
and  then  she  was  like  a  play.  Storm  was  also  good  to 
experience,  if  he  could  always  still  the  waters. 

John  Wilbur  had  evidently  followed  his  wife's  actions 
pretty  closely.  Mrs.  Stevans,  who  was  travelling  in 
Europe,  had  kept  him  informed,  casually,  and  Erard  had 
let  her  assume  whenever  they  met  all  that  her  imagina 
tion  could  picture.  In  the  meantime  Wilbur  had  begun 
to  prosecute  his  action  for  divorce  vigorously.  Mrs. 
Anthon  had  lived  in  the  desolate  house  all  these  months, 
to  maintain  appearances,  which  deceived  no  one.  Now 
her  son-in-law  informed  her  bluntly  that  she  had  best 
leave  at  once ;  he  did  not  care  any  longer  for  her  sym 
pathy  and  "  wanted  his  ruined  home  to  himself." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  in  the  course  of  her  wanderings  from 
place  to  place  received  the  echoes  of  this  final  eruption 
which  she  had  caused.  The  thought  of  it  disturbed  her 
more  than  she  allowed  herself  to  believe,  even  here  in 
the  midst  of  earnest  regular  work  which  was  supposed 
to  satisfy  her  mind.  It  would  all  be  over  soon,  she 
said  to  herself,  the  divorce  once  granted,  but  she  began 
to  realize  that  she  could  not  dispose  of  her  unimportant 
self  without  making  wounds  not  easily  healed. 

Mrs.  Anthon  added  her  irritant  to  her  daughter's 
feelings  in  the  shape  of  a  tempestuous  letter.  She 
wrote  on  black-edged  paper  with  some  idea  of  symbol 
ism  in  her  mind.  (To  her  intimate  friends  she  had 
often  said :  "  My  daughter  is  dead  to  me.")  This  time 

R 


242  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

her  wail  was  complex.  "  You  have  done  what  I  always 
said  you  would  do,  Adela.  You  remember  I  said  to 
Sebastian  — '  Ada  will  disgrace  us  all  some  day,  I  know 
it,  and  with  that  low  fellow  you  have  picked  up.'  Now 
your  husband  is  getting  a  divorce,  which  he  oughtn't  to 
do  yet,  and  the  house  is  just  so  beautiful  and  new  and 
grand, — just  made  for  you  to  look  fine  in.  I  have  kept 
it  the  best  I  could,  though  those  Engljsh  men-servants 
are  real  insolent.  I  had  rather  have  three  or  four  good, 
clean-looking  girls  in  caps  and  black  gowns  as  the 
Eemsens  do.  I  suppose  you  are  beyond  a  mother's  tears 
and  supplications,  seeing  as  you  have  broken  the  sacredest 
laws  of  man  and  God.  And  you  christened  and  took  into 
the  church.  John  would  stick  to  the  Episcopal  church 
and  have  you  all  baptized  when  you  were  babies,  though 
I  wanted  to  go  to  the  Presbyterian  church,  which  you 
remember  was  just  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  from  us.  I  had 
a  real  kind  letter  from  Mrs.  King  Hamilton  about  our 
trouble.  She  says  the  scandals  in  New  York  are  awful, 
we  don't  know  how  bad  people  can  be,  when  they  haven't 
anything  to  do  but  be  bad,  and  she  can't  see  any  more 
than  the  rest  of  us  why  you  didn't  have  the  taste  for 
a  more  elevated  man.  Times  are  changing,  I  wrote  her, 
not  only  in  New  York,  but  everywhere :  it  comes  from 
educating  the  girls.  I  managed  to  live  with  your  father 
twenty-five  years.  .  .  .  John  has  been  as  nice  as  he 
always  was,  but  silent  and  away  most  of  the  time.  I 
took  your  best  blue  lamb's-wool  blankets,  those  your 
sister  Elsa  gave  you,  you  remember.  And  I'll  give  them 
back  to  her  if  you  think  best.  They'll  be  just  what 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  243 

she  wants,  for  your  brother  John  has  moved  into  a  new 
house." 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Wilbur  dropped  the  letter  impa 
tiently,  then  laughed,  and  would  have  liked  to  cry.  She 
had  returned  to  her  villa  from  Borne,  the  day  before,  and 
was  sitting  in  the  great  salon,  gazing  out  over  the  blue 
Val  d'Arno,  and  in  the  intervals  of  her  reverie  reading  a 
few  of  the  letters  she  had  found  waiting  for  her.  What 
would  Molly  say  to  the  news  of  the  divorce  ?  and  Erard  ? 
The  latter  was  coming  soon  to  take  her  for  their  usual 
afternoon  walk.  She  tossed  the  letters  on  her  desk  and 
rang  for  tea.  She  wouldn't  tell  him  about  the  divorce : 
he  would  find  it  out,  as  he  learned  most  facts  about  her, 
by  some  swift,  hidden  means  of  intelligence. 

Presently  Erard  entered  the  room  briskly.  Pouring 
his  own  tea,  he  went  over  by  the  window  to  drink  it  and 
eyed  the  landscape  between  the  sips.  He  certainly  had 
heard  nothing  about  the  divorce  in  his  letters,  for  if  he 
had,  he  would  have  watched  her  more  keenly  to  read 
the  effect  in  her  face.  She  half  suspected  that  he  was 
waiting  for  the  divorce  to  —  she  hardly  knew  what  —  to 
make  his  appropriation  of  her  more  legal.  Hitherto 
he  had  behaved  toward  her  very  circumspectly,  evi 
dently  not  anxious  to  commit  himself.  And  she  had 
tried  him  in  certain  moods,  tempting  him  to  forget  his 
caution. 

"We  will  go  out  by  Fiesole,"  he  remarked  at  last, 
putting  down  his  cup.  "There  is  a  lovely  bit  back  of 
the  village  that  will  explain  to  you  Leonardo's  land 
scape." 


244         THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

For  once  Mrs.  Wilbur  was  not  inclined  to  continue 
this  uninterrupted  course  in  aesthetics.  Her  own  situa 
tion  perplexed  her  and  rendered  her  irritable. 

"  Yes,  but  I  am  tired  of  running  about,"  she  answered 
peevishly. 

He  looked  at  her  for  the  first  time  since  entering  the 
room. 

"  Oh !  you  shouldn't  faint  so  soon.  We  must  go  again 
to  Rome  before  it  gets  unbearably  hot." 

"And  I  must  follow  like  a  good  child."  She  rose  and 
stood  by  his  side.  "You  are  domineering,  like  most 
men.  How  long  must  I  carry  burdens  ?  "  She  turned 
her  heated  face  to  him  and  looked  as  if  she  would  say, 
"Why  don't  you — show  that  you  are  a  man?  Consider 
me  for  a  moment  as  a  woman.  Wouldn't  you  like  to 
love  me  ?  Do  you  think  you  could  have  me,  the  rejected 
Mrs.  Wilbur  ?  Try !  It  will  give  you  an  unexpected 
sensation.  Come,  you  are  pedantic,  you  play  the  school 
master  overmuch." 

"No  one  could  call  you  a  child,"  he  smiled,  sitting 
down  below  her  on  the  window-sill. 

"  No,  I  am  better  than  a  child ;  I  can  help  you  make 
books,  and  when  I  am  good-natured  I  amuse  you  and 
flatter  you.  You  like  flattery  so  much ! " 

Her  eyes  challenged  him  again.  She  was  imperiously 
anxious  to  put  him  beside  himself  —  and  —  to  spurn 
him,  perhaps. 

"  You  have  given  me  the  keenest  flattery ;  you  have 
obeyed  me." 

"  And  if  I  disobey,  and  recant  ?  " 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  245 

"Oh,  you  won't  do  that,"  he  answered  tranquilly. 
"  You  are  too  intelligent  to  do  anything  so  silly." 

"Suppose  I  return  to  my  husband  and  ask  him  to 
forgive  me  ?  " 

Erard  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Don't  be  stupid  and  melodramatic.  You  ought  to 
know  by  this  time  whether  you  like  Wilbur  well  enough 
to  live  with  him." 

"Or  prefer  Erard,"  she  retorted  sarcastically.  He 
looked  at  her,  measuring  her,  enjoying  her  passion.  "  I 
have  been  such  a  good  disciple,  dear  master,"  she  con 
tinued  tempestuously.  "  I  have  studied  your  gospel  letter 
by  letter." 

"There  are  some  chapters  yet  unperused,"  Erard 
smiled  back,  mockingly. 

"  In  good  time  may  your  pupil  go  so  far  —  " 

"All  in  good  time." 

He  baffled  her,  and  after  each  period  of  stormy  indul 
gence  he  left  her  lower  in  her  own  esteem.  Whenever 
she  gave  herself  free  rein,  she  had  a  sickening  sense  of 
the  futility  of  abandonment.  She  lost  each  time  a  little 
power. 

"  Now  you  had  better  let  me  show  you  some  landscape, 
or  will  you  pack  your  trunk  for —  Chicago  ?  "  He  played 
with  her  mood  tranquilly. 

"  I  would  like  to  —  strike  you ! "  In  a  moment  she 
gave  a  little  low  laugh  of  scorn.  "  No,  you  really  aren't 
worth  tragic  displays,  Mr.  Simeon  Erard !  Did  you  ever 
dream  that  there  are  some  sensations  beyond  you  ?  " 

"  For  example  ?  "  he  walked  slowly  towards  her. 


246  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"For  example/'  she  looked  down  at  him.  She  was 
now  thoroughly  reckless  and  maddened  with  a  cold 
passion.  Her  arms,  half  opened,  pressed  convulsively 
together,  slowly,  involuntarily.  Erard  blanched,  trem 
bled,  half  moved,  and  then  paused.  She  swept  by  him, 
frightened  and  aghast.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she 
was  conscious  of  feebleness :  she  was  not  sure  of  herself. 


CHAPTER  VI 

,'- 

AT  that  moment  the  door  of  the  salon  opened,  and 
Jennings  came  forward  into  the  firelight,  with  his  fear 
lessly  erect  carriage,  as  if  it  were  a  fine  thing  to  stride 
through  the  storms  of  the  world.  As  Mrs.  Wilbur  shook 
hands  with  him  she  felt  that  his  face  might  have  been 
taken  from  some  renaissance  bust,  so  filled  it  was  with 
the  pure  fire  of  life. 

Jennings  pulled  awkwardly  at  his  shrunken  travelling 
coat  of  pepper  and  salt,  and  then  perceiving  Erard,  ex 
tended  a  hand  with  a  frank  "How  are  you?"  Mrs. 
Wilbur  ordered  candles  and  fresh  tea,  curiously  pleased 
with  his  unexpected  appearance,  and  relieved  from  the 
tension  of  unmotived  feeling. 

"I  met  Salters  on  the  street,"  Jennings  explained. 
"He  told  me  where  to  find  you.  I  just  escaped  from 
him  a  few  minutes  ago.  He  told  me  about  something 
he  was  at  work  upon.  Has  he  been  writing  ?  " 

"He  has  laboured  over  my  cast-off  ideas  for  five 
years,"  Erard  replied. 

"Well,"  the  newcomer  said  kindly,  "he'll  write  a 
book  some  day,  I  suppose." 

"  God  knows.  It  takes  only  pen,  paper,  and  patience 
to  make  a  book." 

247 


248  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

Mrs.  Wilbur  remembered  the  epigram:  Erard  had 
used  it  about  Salters  four  years  before. 

"  You  fellows  are  slanging  yourselves  in  the  good  old 
style,"  Jennings  laughed,  as  if  amused  at  the  gibes  of 
manikins.  "  And  Vivian  Vavasour,  is  she  still  a  prophet 
with  a  terrific  vocabulary  ?  " 

"  She  has  devoured  a  folio  a  week  for  ten  years,  and  put 
out  a  lot  of  drivel  each  six  months.  Having  exhausted 
art  and  letters  she  is  trying  her  hand  on  religion  now 
and  coquetting  with  her  soul." 

"  You  are  a  precious  lot ! "  Jennings  laughed  again 
hilariously. 

"We  attract  recruits."  Here  is  a  noteworthy  exam 
ple,  he  implied,  whom  I  am  disciplining. 

"  Yes,"  Jennings  admitted,  taking  a  cigarette  from  the 
tea-tray,  and  lighting  it  judiciously.  "  So  I  see.  When 
I  was  over  here  last,  the  neophyte  was  an  ingenuous 
youth,  who  was  delving  into  his  ego.  He  changed  his 
opinions  with  the  seasons.  What  became  of  him  ?  " 

"You  mean  Hiram  Ernst.  He  recanted,  having  ex 
hausted  Europe,  and  is  married  now  to  a  woman  in 
Buffalo.  He  is  practising  law.  He  writes  me  bump 
tious  letters  every  now  and  then." 

"  And  there  was  a  southern  poet,  a  flabby,  fat  youth 
of  Plutonic  dreariness,  who  lived  on  Turkish  coffee  and 
cigarettes.  He  wrote  ditties  to  the  infernal  gods  and 
emitted  hints  of  mysterious  vices." 

"  He  shut  himself  up  in  a  villa  at  Amalfi  with  a  vol 
ume  of  Petrarch,  and  has  not  been  heard  from  since." 

"There  were  the  women,   too,"   Jennings   continued, 


THE   GOSPEL    OF   FREEDOM  249 

reminiscentially.  "Edith  Sevan,  a  golden-haired  little 
Puritan  with  a  temperament.  She  used  to  play  pretty 
well  when  she  wasn't  overcome  with  emotion." 

"  Married,"  Erard  replied,  "  and  lost." 

"The  Honourable  Miss  Vantine  was  stunning,  —  the 
cigarette-smoking,  whiskey-and-soda  one.  She  looked 
like  a  poppy  and  swore  like  a  mule-driver.  The  last 
time  I  heard  of  her  she  had  forsaken  cigarettes  for 
cigars  and  had  punched  an  impertinent  cabby.  She 
was  —  well  —  tough" 

"  Oh,  she  went  off  with  a  German  painter  and  forgot 
to  get  married  until  it  was  too  late.  My  dear  fellow, 
you  are  really  archaic.  We  have  new  constellations 
now:  the  lesser  luminaries  have  winked  and  gone 
out." 

"It's  all  the  same,"  Jennings  protested,  throwing 
away  his  cigarette  half-smoked.  "I  suppose  the  flies 
are  a  little  thicker  as  our  idle  classes  increase.  We 
need  a  war,  —  or  a  pestilence." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  winced  at  this  banter  about  the  "  aspir 
ants."  The  dilettanti,  the  exclamatory  women  like  her 
self,  came  and  went.  Erard  was  strong  enough  to  stay, 
fattened  by  the  incense  of  the  troop.  At  this  pause  in 
the  conversation  Molly  Parker  entered,  and  dropping 
her  wraps  with  a  little  exclamation  of  delight,  she  sped 
to  meet  Jennings. 

"You  and  here!"  She  looked  into  his  face.  "Oh! 
this  is  so  nice.  It's  the  best  thing  this  winter,  isn't  it, 
Adela?"  Mrs.  Wilbur  laughed,  and  Erard  echoed  her 
merriment  disagreeably. 


250  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"But  you  aren't  half  glad  enough  to  see  us,"  she 
looked  at  the  visitor  reproachfully. 

"  Of  course  I  am."  Jennings  was  pulling  at  his  suit 
confusedly.  "Didn't  I  come  round  this  way  to  get  to 
London  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  anyway,"  Miss  Parker  bepjned, 
"  I  am  awfully  glad  you  are  here.  I'll  tell  Luisa  to 
make  a  festa  for  dinner." 

Jennings  was  vague  about  his  plans,  when  the  women 
plied  him  with  questions  at  dinner.  He  was  on  his  way 
somewhere  he  admitted,  —  about  to  make  a  change. 
"  They  got  tired  of  me  in  Chicago,  and  I  was  rather  tired 
of  them."  He  was  also  vague  about  seeing  these  friends 
again,  for  he  said  bluntly  that  he  didn't  care  to  meet 
Americans  at  present. 

"Nasty  remark  that,"  Molly  reflected  lugubriously 
after  his  departure. 

"It  would  be  nice  to  see  him  often,"  Mrs.  Wilbur 
admitted.  "I  wonder  why  he  is  so  attractive.  He 
can  be  very  gauche.  It  must  be  because  he  makes 
such  little  account  of  himself.  The  world  is  all;  life 
is  all,  no  matter  where  he  works  or  whom  he  meets. 
That  firm  hand  will  be  put  to  the  plough,  and  those 
frank  eyes  will  consider  seriously." 

"That  is  very  nicely  said,"  observed  Miss  Parker 
slyly,  "especially  coming  from  one  of  your  profession." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  took  up  a  volume  hastily  and  began  her 
reading. 

"  But  I  think  we  shall  see  him  again,"  her  companion 
continued,  a  slight  smile  creeping  over  the  corners  of  her 
mouth. 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  251 

"Why  didn't  you  stay  in  Chicago  and  bring  it  about, 
Molly  ?  "  Mrs.  Wilbur  laid  aside  her  book. 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  be  with  you." 

"And  Thornton  Jennings  believes  in  sacrifice."    - 

"Adela!" 

"  It  will  make  it  all  the  more  romantic  to  have  him 
follow  you  to  your  missionary  field  and  see  you  caring 
for  the  heathen." 

Molly  Parker's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I  couldn't  be 
happy,  and  know  that  you  were  over  here  alone  with 
this  set." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  was  already  ashamed  of  her  ill-temper. 
Presently  she  reflected  aloud,  "  So  you  ran  the  chances  of 
losing  him  to  —  " 

"  You  can't  lose  any  one  you  love,  who  loves  you.  But 
it  may  take  a  dreadful  time  to  have  everything  come 
right."  She  sighed.  "Adela,"  she  said  with  sudden 
daring.  "  Did  you  ever  know  that  Erard  had  relatives  ? 
A  father  and  brother;  the  brother  has  just  died,  Mr. 
Jennings  told  me  —  we  knew  them." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  listened  quietly  until  her  friend  stopped, 
afraid  to  continue. 

"  No !  I  don't  know  anything  about  Mr.  ErarcL's 
family.  But  when  he  wants  to  tell  me,  he  will,  and 
until  then  they  do  not  interest  me." 

Jennings  seemed  in  no  great  haste  to  leave  Florence. 
He  would  disappear  for  a  few  days,  and  when  he  turned 
up  at  the  Villa  Eosadina  he  had  "  merely  been  off  for 
exercise."  But  large  slices  of  the  lingering  sunny  days 


252  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

he  spent  with  the  two  American  women.  Mrs.  Wilbur 
was  conscious  that  he  was  watching  and  studying  her. 
He  seemed  as  much  interested  in  her  as  in  Molly.  Indeed 
they  had  rather  most  of  the  desultory  talk  on  their 
rambles.  Now  and  then  Molly  Parker  interrupted  them 
in  a  heated  t£te-d.-t&te. 

"  Another  soulful  talk,  darn  'em/'  she  would  mutter. 
"Anyhow  Adela  has  an  awful  heavy  chin,  and  when  she 
gets  excited  it  is  positively  ugly."  She  had  vague  fears 
that  Adela  was  capable  of  corrupting  even  Jennings  :  you 
never  knew  how  foolish  a  man  could  be.  So  when  at 
one  of  these  ruffled  moments  Mrs.  Wilbur  called  affec 
tionately, —  "Come  here,  Molly,  and  kiss  me."  Miss 
Parker  shook  her  head  jauntily.  "I  don't  like  being 
kissed."  And  fishing  out  a  stray  cigarette,  she  lit  it  mis 
chievously. 

"  Molly ! "  Mrs.  Wilbur  exclaimed. 

"  Vivian  Vavasour  does  it :  that's  why  she  is  so  dried  up 
and  sallow.  Mr.  Erard  taught  me.  Every  one  smokes 
in  the  Circle."  She  turned  to  Jennings.  "Adela  is 
squeamish.  Then  she  dislikes  new  habits." 

Jennings  laughed  appreciatively. 

"  By  the  way,  Adela,  I  am  going  to  write  Walter  to 
come  on  next  Easter  and  take  me  to  Rome  for  the 
Carnival.  That's  the  custom  in  the  Circle,"  she  explained 
to  Jennings.  "  We  take  men  instead  of  maids  when  we 
travel.  It's  lots  nicer;  you  have  some  one  to  lug  the 
bags  and  to  run  errands.  Besides,  it  shocks  people  and 
makes  you  talked  about." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  looked  at  her  scornfully,  while  Jennings 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  253 

seemed  to  receive  infinite  amusement  from  the  situa 
tion. 

"And  you  must  swear  and  say  nasty  things  about 
your  family  and  friends.  I  met  an  English  girl  at 
Vivian's  the  other  day,  who  said  she  was  dining  with 
some  people  in  London,  and  the  daughter  of  the  house 
remarked  at  the  table  before  her  father  and  mother,  — 
{ Barr '  —  that's  the  girl's  name  — '  Barr,  you  must  come 
next  week  when  papa  and  mamma  are  in  the  country. 
We  can  have  some  talk  then  and  not  such  a  stupid 
time."' 

Jennings  went  away  in  a  gale  of  laughter,  and  Miss 
Parker  subsided  into  silence.  Mrs.  Wilbur  was  more 
hurt  by  her  outbreak  than  she  cared  to  admit.  She 
realized,  moreover,  that  some  recognition  was  due  her 
friend  for  her  constant  devotion.  She  remarked  at  last, 
magnanimously,  — 

"  I  think  we  must  go  north  before  long.  I  will  ask 
Thornton  Jennings  to  join  us  later,  and  I  am  sure  you 
will  be  glad  to  see  Walter." 

"Thank  you,"  Miss  Parker  replied  with  sweet  cool 
ness.  "Please  don't  urge  them  —  you  know  I  think  it's 
the  men's  business  to  do  the  urging." 

"  I  have  fallen  pretty  low,  n'est  ce  pas,  Molly  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  so." 

"But  I  have;  I  couldn't  go  much  lower,  it  seems  to 
me  at  times." 

"  Have  you  made  yourself  happy  ? "  Molly  inquired 
serenely. 

Mrs.  Wilbur  did  not  care  to  answer.    Molly's  incipient 


254  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

jealousy  hardly  deserved  attention.  Her  fears  were 
groundless,  for  Jennings  was  merely  watching  the  play 
out,  and  assisting  the  action  in  obtrusive  ways.  He 
had  told  Mrs.  Wilbur  that  his  cousin  Mrs.  Stevans  had 
been  in  Florence  earlier  in  the  winter  and  that  she  and 
Erard  were  quite  chummy.  "  Erard's  buying  her  a  car 
load  of  stuff."  She  inferred  that  Mrs.  Stevans  was  the 
present  deity  who  made  Erard's  course  easy,  and  that 
Erard  was  even  better  informed  about  her  own  affairs 
than  she  herself.  Yet  Erard  had  never  alluded  to  what 
he  had  learned  from  Mrs.  Stevans. 

One  day,  moreover,  Jennings  related  the  incident  of 
Peter  Erard  and  the  old  man  on  Halsted  Street.  "  Peter 
was  a  stubborn  beast,"  he  explained.  "  He  refused  to  be 
comforted.  Yet  he  took  his  private's  place  in  the  line, 
like  a  man.  And  Peter  had  to  join  the  dumb." 

"  You  are  fond  of  the  dumb,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  said  wist 
fully,  neglecting  to  follow  out  the  implications  of  the 
Erard  tale. 

"They  are  not  picturesque,  but  — "  And  after  a 
silence  he  told  her  of  his  own  dilemma.  He  had  re 
ceived  an  offer  of  the  headship  of  a  southern  training- 
school  for  negroes.  He  was  trying  now  to  settle  the 
question  of  accepting  it.  Mrs.  Wilbur  refrained  from 
commenting.  She  would  like  to  say,  "  Go,"  but  that 
word  might  sound  strangely  in  her  mouth. 

In  spite  of  all  this  influence  which  Jennings  brought, 
the  old  life  of  work  with  Erard  went  on.  She  had  no 
excuse  for  breaking  with  him,  even  though  the  hot 
June  days  sapped  her  strength,  and  his  demands  grew 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  255 

burdensome.  And  she  was  afraid  of  him  as  well  as 
curious  to  know  what  humiliation  he  had  in  store  for 
her.  What  new  corners  in  his  nature  had  she  to  explore 
before  the  end  came  ?  Somehow  it  was  in  the  air  that 
this  thing  was  to  be  fought  out  between  them  to  an  end. 
Each  recognized  the  struggle  and  hesitated. 

The  Tuscan  summer  crept  on  apace  over  the  hills. 
The  leafy  woods  in  the  Cascine  glowed  in  the  sun; 
down  the  river  a  thin  line  of  stately,  flower-like  trees 
threw  pictures  of  an  afternoon  in  the  pools  of  the 
Arno.  The  nights  on  Bello  Sguardo  were  like  jewelled 
velvet.  She  waited,  apathetically,  for  some  sign,  some 
impulse  of  readjustment. 


CHAPTER  VII 

LATE  in  June  Mrs.  Wilbur  and  Erard  went  again  to 
Rome  with  several  other  members  of  the  Circle.  There 
a  gradual  languor  stupefied  her  will.  The  year  with  its 
multiform  passions  had  scorched  her,  and  she  found  her 
self  feeble  before  the  fierce  heat,  the  parched  season  of 
Italy.  Over  her  drawing  her  arm  would  relax,  and  she 
would  gaze  vacantly  at  the  object  before  her,  wondering 
where  the  beauty  in  it  lay.  Beauty,  which  she  had  wor 
shipped  so  passionately  had  escaped  her,  was  fleeing  fur 
ther  every  dead  day,  and  behind  the  smile  of  creation 
which  had  roused  her  pulses,  she  was  now  feeling  the 
dull,  earthy  matter.  How  could  Erard  find  sensations  in 
this  pulverizing  atmosphere  !  Dust,  dust,  —  the  pictures 
and  frescos  were  crumbling  in  dust,  and  the  hard  white 
marble  had  died  long  ago :  it  was  crumbling  now,  and 
the  fragments  were  disintegrating.  Behind  her  in  the 
forum  there  was  a  mound  of  dead  dust,  and  she  and 
Erard  were  handling  mould  of  a  later  date.  It  would  all 
crumble  some  day,  and  lie  baking  in  the  hard  sun,  silent 
for  centuries  while  the  world  trod  it  out  for  vulgar  uses. 

Yet  she  did  not  complain.  She  was  ashamed  to  whim 
per  now.  The  morning  came  when  she  could  not  drag 
herself  out  into  the  glare,  and  she  lay  numb  in  the 
stuffy  room  of  the  little  Albergo  Nero  where  Erard  had 
.  256 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  257 

placed  the  party.  One  day  something  like  a  miracle 
occurred  —  a  new  infusion  of  will.  Jennings  appeared, 
and  saying  merely,  "  Come !  you  are  worn  out,"  brought 
her  back  to  Florence  like  a  sick  child.  There  had  been 
a  scene  with  Erard,  who  scoffed  at  her  indisposition, 
and  scolded  her  for  leaving  him  in  the  lurch.  Jennings 
had  repeated  his  compelling  "  Come."  The  two  men 
had  exchanged  a  few  innuendoes,  Erard  betraying  his 
gutter-blood,  and  Jennings  preserving  his  ironical  good- 
humour.  She  had  not  made  a  sign,  until  Jennings  re 
marked  softly.  "  So  Freedom  has  come  to  this !  In  the 
last  resort  you  must  act." 

The  household  on  Bello  Sguardo  had  received  her  as  a 
prodigal,  —  Luisa  with  loud  exclamations  of  joy,  Pina 
with  roses,  and  Molly  with  a  kiss.  Yet  she  knew  that 
the  end  was  not  yet.  Erard  would  not  let  her  slip  so 
simply,  and  in  a  way  that  humiliating  retreat  from 
Eome  had  left  her  more  powerless  than  ever.  While 
she  waited  Walter  Anthon  came  with  real  news :  the 
divorce  had  been  granted  in  chambers.  Or,  in  Walter's 
solemn  words,  — 

"  Your  husband  has  taken  the  measure  which  society 
allows  him.  You  are  no  longer  Mrs.  John  Wilbur." 

His  sister  turned  her  weary  eyes  on  him. 

"  The  mail  would  have  sufficed  to  tell  me.  Have  you 
come  all  the  way  from  London  to  preach  me  a  sermon  ?  " 

He  had  not  been  so  simple.     He  had  a  plan  as  usual. 

"You  are  free  now.     I  suppose  that  will  please  you, 
even  if  your  husband  that  was,  has  made  off  with  your 
money  and  is  about  to  marry  again." 
s 


258          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

The  three  ideas  in  this  pungent  little  speech  sank  into 
her  mind  one  after  the  other.  She  was  free.  How  she 
had  agonized  over  that !  And  how  little  it  meant  to  be 
free,  now  that  the  courts  had  declared  it  to  society ! 
The  creases  in  her  mind  could  not  be  ironed  out  by 
any  judge's  decree.  When  she  realized  the  next  step, 
she  remarked  hastily,  "  He  has  taken  only  what  I  gave 
him." 

"  Are  you  willing  to  give  him  your  father's  money  to 
enjoy  with  another  woman?  " 

She  had  had  a  vague  idea  that  in  giving  up  her  origi 
nal  fortune  to  her  husband  she  was  atoning  in  part  for 
breaking  the  contract  of  partnership.  It  seemed,  how 
ever,  that  he  had  sought  and  obtained  his  own  satisfac 
tion,  and  that  her  sacrifice  was  useless. 

"  He  will  do  what  is  right,"  she  protested. 

"  Do  you  think  this  Mrs.  Stevans  will  let  him  give  up 
what  he  has  got  his  hands  on  ?  " 

At  the  mention  of  this  name  her  mind  swept  swiftly 
back  to  Chicago,  to  the  night  of  the  reception  when  the 
new  house  was  opened.  She  had  introduced  Mrs.  Stevans 
to  Erard,  and  Erard  had  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  her 
ever  since.  Singular  freak  of  fate  that  Erard  should 
be  connected  with  the  two  women  in  whom  this  man 
of  business  had  sought  happiness!  Perhaps  something 
would  come  out  later,  between  these  two,  and  a  second 
scandal  follow.  She  played  with  her  morbid  fancy. 

"Now,  ma  clibre  sc&ur"  Anthon  resumed,  attempting 
the  difficult  passage  with  a  light  touch,  "  you  have  had 
your  fling  in  the  world  like  the  best  of  us,  and  have 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  259 

shown  your  heels  rather  freely.  Don't  you  think  it's 
time  to  take  in  sail  and  make  some  port?"  He  could 
not  hit  upon  quite  the  right  figure.  "In  other  words, 
consolidate  the  present  position  which  you  have  chosen 
to  create."  No  phrase  seemed  delicate  enough  for  the 
business.  But  his  sister  helped  him  out. 

"You  mean  you  would  like  to  have  me  induce 
Mr.  Erard  to  marry  me  ?  " 

Her  brother  nodded.  She  laughed  a  long,  low,  relish 
ing  laugh.  "  So  this  is  the  decision  of  the  family.  I  am 
to  marry  the  villanous  Erard  at  last ! "  She  laughed 
again  shrilly. 

"  Yes,"  Anthon  pursued,  discomfited.  "  That's  the  only 
thing  to  do  now  for  all  parties,  for  Erard's  sake  as  well 
as  your  own.  He  is  a  very  clever  fellow,  and  I  have  no 
doubt  in  time  we  can  get  him  some  respectable  place. 
He  will  make  his  niche  in  the  world.  I  am  told  that  he 
is  very  strong  in  his  line.  But  you  probably  know  that 
as  well  as  I. 

"Of  course,"  he  continued,  as  Mrs.  Wilbur  seemed 
occupied  with  her  own  thoughts,  "you  would  have  to 
observe  the  convenances  for  a  time,  live  over  here  very 
quietly  and  not  appear  publicly  in  America  or  London." 

"And  suppose  I  have  no  wish  to  marry  Mr.  Simeon 
Erard  ?  "  his  sister  asked  at  length. 

"  Not  marry  him ! "  Anthon  gasped.  "  Good  Lord, 
Adela,  what  do  you  mean  ?  You  haven't  any  objection 
to  marriage  in  itself,  —  and  when  it's  to  save  your 
reputation." 

Mrs.    Wilbur    reddened    at    the    concluding    phrase. 


260          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

"  You  didn't  think  that  it  would  require  any  urging  to 
make  a  woman  who  is  compromised  accept  the  honour 
able  position  of  wife  ?  " 

"  Don't  speak  so  shockingly,  pray." 

"But  you  are  wrong,  dear  Walter,"  she  gave  a  sarcastic 
laugh.  "  There  is  really  no  illegal  relation  between  us 
—  pray  don't  squirm  at  words.  There  was  a  time  when 
the  outcome  might  have  been  different.  But  now  that 
you  have  planned  it  all  nicely,  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot 
please  you.  Marriage  with  Mr.  Erard  at  present  does  not 
really  seem  to  me  so  possible." 

This  attitude  mystified  the  young  man ;  he  caught  on 
the  words  "  at  present." 

"Oh,  take  your  own  time,  Adela.  Satisfy  your  own 
prejudices.  But  don't  let  this  opportunity  escape,  —  of 
squaring  yourself  with  the  world." 

He  sat  back  in  his  chair,  satisfied  that  he  had  put  his 
case  well  and  had  the  logic  of  events  on  his  side.  He 
would  teach  this  irrepressible  sister  that  he  knew  what 
he  was  about,  after  all.  Mrs.  Wilbur  opened  her  lips  to 
retort ;  then  lay  back  in  her  chair.  At  last  she  turned 
towards  him  as  if  her  mind  had  come  back  to  an  errand- 
boy  who  was  waiting  for  his  message. 

"  Walter,  you  are  young  enough  to  learn  a  lesson  and 
profit  by  it,  if  you  care  to.  Don't  meddle.  Especially  in 
what  are  courteously  called  affairs  of  the  heart.  Good 
people  think  they  are  courageous  when  they  say  unpleas 
ant  things,  and  try  to  run  the  universe  their  way.  It  is 
a  blunder,  and  mere  vanity  on  their  part.  You  have 
bustled  about  over  me  ever  since  I  came  from  America, 


THE   GOSPEL   OF    FREEDOM  261 

and  you  haven't  the  excuse  for  your  impertinence  of  any 
great  affection.  You  are  a  vain  young  man,  and  you  are 
weak.  You  are  pretty  to  look  at,  and  you  have  good 
manners  —  when  you  are  properly  subdued.  No  !  listen, 
for  this  is  the  last  time  you  are  likely  to  hear  what  is 
good  for  you.  I  am  willing  to  believe  that  you  are 
clever,  though  a  list  of  brilliant  acquaintances  and  a  post 
in  London  journalism  are  really  not  great  heights  to 
reach.  You  are  a  little  man,  Walter,  an  amiable  little 
man,  and  that  is  why  the  big  world  tolerates  you.  But 
you  mustn't  become  didactic  !  Now  run  in  and  ask  Pina 
to  bring  tea  out  on  the  terrace  and  to  call  Miss  Parker 
and  Mr.  Jennings,  if  they're  at  home." 

A  good  deal  of  the  romance  of  his  mission  was  reft 
from  Walter  Anthon  by  this  incisive  lecture.  So  far  his 
diplomacy  and  tact  had  ended  in  his  being  corrected  like 
a  small  boy,  and  sent  into  the  house  to  order  tea.  He 
went,  however,  without  further  words,  resolving  to  bring 
up  his  plan  at  another  time,  when  his  beautiful  sister 
was  more  amenable  to  reason. 

The  sight  of  Miss  Parker  comforted  him.  She  was  so 
sedulsante,  he  confided  to  her,  in  a  summer  dress,  pouring 
tea  under  the  lemon  blossoms,  while  she  inquired  tenderly 
after  all  his  little  interests.  She  had  the  feminine  art  his 
grand  sister  so  brutally  lacked,  of  keeping  in  mind  all  your 
personal  affairs.  It  was  adroitly  flattering  to  mention 
his  article  in  the  April  Book-Grower,  and  to  discuss  the 
edatant  cynicism  with  which  he  had  nourished  into  his 
peroration.  Finally,  perceiving  that  Mrs.  Wilbur  was 
preoccupied,  she  had  suggested  taking  him  for  a  walk  in 


262          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

the  cool  of  the  evening.  There  was  a  view  behind  the  hill 
into  a  side  valley  that  was  especially  fine  in  this  light. 
Then  she  had  some  errands  for  the  household;  he  could 
exercise  his  Italian.  It  was  all  so  daintily,  so  coquettishly 
managed,  Anthon  thought  with  complacency.  No  Lon 
don  girl  could  rub  you  just  the  right  way  like  that.  It 
was  delicious  to  feel  yourself  falling  into  such  toils.  But 
she  would  have  to  make  them  strong !  If  folly,  were  to 
be  his  lot,  it  must  be  a  long-drawn-out,  sweet  folly. 

After  they  had  left,  Mrs.  Wilbur  lay  quite  still  in 
her  large  wicker  chair,  watching  the  pale  silver  plain  at 
her  feet  shimmer  in  the  blinding  flood  of  light  from  the 
western  hills.  The  sea  of  heat  seething  in  myriad  lanes 
above  the  trees  hypnotized  her  flickering  will.  Why  had 
she  rejected  her  brother's  plan  for  her  salvation  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SHE  lay  there  motionless  on  the  terrace  into  the  still 
twilight.  The  little  mountain  villages  across  the  heated 
valley  robed  themselves  in  blue  mist.  Beneath  the  wall 
the  road  up  the  hill  from  the  Porta  Fredano  cut  the  olive 
trees  with  its  snaky  coils.  The  silence  was  like  the 
emptiness  of  worlds. 

Suddenly  she  rose,  impulsively  striking  out  for  an 
escape.  Erard  would  come  in  a  few  days,  hours,  minutes. 
He  might  be  in  Florence  now.  She  must  do  some 
thing  before  she  met  him,  find  some  resolution.  Uncon 
sciously  she  began  to  follow  the  road,  hastening  along  its 
curves  in  an  impetuous  desire  to  flee.  Gradually  she  be 
came  conscious  that  she  was  seeking  for  Jennings.  She 
might  find  him  below  in  the  city,  and  he  must  save  her,  —  y 
he  would  know  how.  So  she  ran  on  feverishly,  dragging 
her  weak  limbs  over  the  great  paving-stones,  which  were 
heated  like  an  oven.  Some  instinct  led  her  to  the  Ponte 
Vecchio,  where  she  happened  on  Jennings,  sauntering  idly 
with  the  throng  that  had  come  out  to  breathe  in  the 
evening  air.  Then  she  had  nothing  to  say,  but  stood 
panting,  her  white  face  flushing  to  the  dark  hair. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  asked  her  gently,  and  taking 
her  arm  he  led  her  out  of  the  sharp  bustle  on  the  bridge 
into  a  side  street  and  then  to  the  entrance  of  the  Boboli 
gardens.  The  great  cypresses  threw  an  inviting  shade, 

263 


264  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

towards  which  they  walked.  Jennings  waited  for  her 
explanation. 

"  It  has  come,  at  last/'  she  stammered  awkwardly. 
"I  am  free  now." 

Jennings  did  not  seem  to  understand  her  full  meaning. 

"  But  you  have  been  '  free '  for  nearly  a  year.  Have 
you  at  last  found  peace  in  that  potent  word  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  replied  impatiently.  "I  did  not  mean  that. 
Walter  brought  me  the  news  that  —  since  the  fifteenth  — 
I  have  not  been  Mrs.  Wilbur.  I  am  legally  free  —  to 
make  a  mess  of  it." 

"  Well  ?  "  He  implied  that  this  news  was  not  unex 
pected,  or  of  sufficient  importance  to  explain  her  tremor. 

"  It  is  dreadful,"  she  murmured  incoherently.  "  What 
am  I  to  do  ?  " 

"  It  hasn't  succeeded,  has  it  ?  "  His  blunt  words  were 
spoken  softly.  "  There  isn't  any  real  difference  between 
these  people,  Erard's  Art  Endeavour  Circle  and  Protest 
ants  in  general,  and  the  good  people  of  Chicago.  They 
aren't  a  great  deal  more  interesting,  Salters  and  Vivian 
and  the  southern  poet  and  the  Jew  critic  and  the  chorus 
of  aspirants,  than  the  Chicago  lot  with  their  simpler 
ambitions  and  manners  and  cruder  expression.  On  the 
whole  they  aren't  so  good ;  they  are  nearer  dead :  the 
others  have  a  race  to  run,  and  these  have  only  their  graves 
to  dig.  And  if  I  were  going  merely  to  rot,"  his  voice 
trembled,  "I  should  rather  rot  with  the  Philistines  and 
be  a  good  human  animal  than  —  " 

"  Well,  there  are  others,"  she  protested.  "  You  mention 
only  the  small  fry,  like  me." 


THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  265 

Jennings  looked  at  her  abstractedly.  He  was  answer 
ing  his  own  heart  rather  than  considering  her. 

"  They  are  all  much  alike,  these  sighers  after  art  and 
beauty.  A  poor  lot,  take  them  as  a  whole,  who  decide 
to  eat  honey  all  their  lives  !  I  have  seen  more  of  them 
than  anything  else  in  Europe,  —  dilettantes,  connois 
seurs,  little  artists,  lazy  scholars.  Chiefly  Americans, 
who,  finding  America  too  incomplete,  come  here  and 
accomplish  nothing.  In  every  centre  in  Europe  you  can 
find  two  or  three  of  them  in  the  various  stages  of  decay. 
The  environment  they  run  after  atrophies  their  faculties ; 
the  very  habits  of  life  which  are  best  for  these  people 
hurt  them;  they  sink  into  laziness.  Erard  is  the  leader 
of  the  tribe,  —  the  grand  high-priest  of  the  mysteries  of 
the  higher  senses !  " 

He  ended  his  declamation  with  a  laugh.  His  cold 
contempt  shut  her  heart  and  drove  her  back  to  defence. 

"  But  he  has  made  it  worth  while ;  you  are  not  fair  to 
him.  He  has  lived  in  the  only  way  lie  could  and  reach 
his  ends.  And  he  has  done  something ;  he  knows." 

"  Perhaps,"  Jennings  agreed  dubiously,  thinking  his 
own  thoughts  aloud  with  brutal  disregard  for  her  infer 
ences.  "  What  a  bloodless,  toady  existence,  sucking  in  the 
joys  of  his  paradise  !  And  for  what  ?  A  few  books  to  be 
replaced  by  a  new  set  in  another  generation,  L,  few  epi 
grams,  and  a  little  quivering  of  his  '  sensorium.'  Better 
a  day  in  an  Indiana  town,  than  a  year  of  that !  " 

Mrs.  Wilbur  turned  her  face  away.  Even  he  was  so 
pitiless !  She  had  come  to  him  in  her  distress  for  com 
fort,  and  instead  of  soothing  her,  of  leading  her  out  of 


266          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

her  tangle,  he  heaped  up  this  stern  indictment  against 
all  her  past  ideals. 

"You  didn't  know  Peter  Erard."  He  began  to  tell 
that  story  again.  "  You  see,  there  was  the  mother.  She 
died,  saving  her  pennies  to  give  Simeon  a  new  suit  when 
he  was  tutoring  Mr.  Anthon's  daughter.  Then  there 
were  the  father  and  Peter.  The  father  was  too  old  to 
work,  and  Peter  kept  him  comfortable  and  I  believe 
sent  Erard  money,  first  by  a  job  in  Jersey  City,  then  by 
one  in  Chicago.  Over  a  year  ago  Peter  met  with  an 
accident  and  lost  his  job  —  Miss  Parker  knows  these 
facts  —  and,  finally  a  little  while  ago,  died.  When  he 
was  ill,  Erard,  Simeon,  that  is  to  say,  was  in  Chicago, 
giving  lectures  and  visiting.  Peter  saw  him  once.  And 
the  old  man  might  die  in  the  poor-house  now,  if  it  weren't 
for  Miss  Parker." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  listened  with  compressed  lips.  She  had 
been  fighting  off  this  disagreeable  tale  for  a  long  time. 

"  That  Peter  Erard  —  lie  was  a  man !  "  Jennings  con 
tinued,  his  face  lighting  up.  "He  had  it  in  him  to  do 
something,  and  he  knew  it,  and  he  never  talked  slush. 
He  took  his  place  in  the  ranks,  like  a  man.  And  now 
he  is  dumb,  as  he  was  in  life ! " 

"  Perhaps  the  other  one  showed  his  genius  by  defying 
all  these  claims  and  making  his  way  in  spite  of  them," 
Mrs.  Wilbur  stammered,  remembering  the  Napoleonic 
glory  of  Simeon's  first  confessions  to  her.  Jennings 
looked  at  her  pityingly. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  now  that  you  know  the  story  in 
all  its  sordid  detail  ?  And  can  you  still  think  that  the 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  267 

result  is  worth  while  ?  Is  it  any  better  than  the  grab, 
and  the  coarse  perception  about  traction  stocks,  and  the 
rest  of  the  unpleasant  side  of  Chicago  which  annoys  our 
nostrils  ?  Merely  because  you  work  in  pictures  or  books, 
and  not  in  pork  and  dry-goods.  Ah,  Peter  was  the  man, 
and  he  was  a  private  !  " 

"You  aren't  fair  to  Simeon — to  me,"  she  retorted  hotly. 
"  You  make  nothing  of  that  hunger  for  something  beau 
tiful,  that  love  —  I  had  it,  you  can  believe  me.  Some 
people  have  it  and  die  unless  —  " 

"  Did  you  get  what  you  wanted  ?  "  Jennings  exclaimed, 
pacing  back  and  forth  across  the  strip  of  gravel. 

« ~§0  |  »  ghe  exclaimed  in  something  like  a  sob.  "  The 
joy  faded  so  fast !  And  the  more  I  grow  to  know,  the 
less  I  am  filled  with  the  old  rapture.  I  have  striven 
so  to  possess  joy,  and  gone  so  low  in  my  own  sight. 
It  is  bitter,  bitter  —  " 

"Europe  tempts  us  Americans,"  her  companion  inter 
rupted  excusingly.  "It  holds  so  many  treasures,  and 
the  life  of  the  spirit  is  organized  here.  I  came  near 
giving  in,  once,  those  days  in  Oxford  where  everything 
seemed  spread  for  enjoyment.  I  rather  longed  to  help 
myself  to  dainties  until  I  was  full.  But  —  " 

"But  what?" 

"  It's  against  nature,  a  sin  against  nature.  Life  is  not 
fulfilled,  we  are  not  quieted,  in  that  way.  To  accept  the 
world  as  it  comes  to  our  hands,  to  shape  it  painfully 
without  regard  for  self,  —  that  brings  the  soul  to  peace." 

He  had  made  his  decision,  and  evidently  he  had  found 
some  solace.  She  could  not  take  the  same  road  easily; 


268  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

she  had  gone  the  other  way.  She  looked  up  into  his  face 
longingly,  pleadingly,  as  if  she  were  wildly  hoping  that 
he  would  take  her  with  him,  that  he  would  not  leave  her 
in  her  wanderings.  ___ __ 

"  I  am  going  back  to  the^mggers/j  Jennings  continued 
after  a  pause  in  a  lighter  tone.  "  Won't  that  please 
Mrs.  Stevans!  I  think  my  friends  expected  me  to  be 
come  another  kind  of  Erard."  He  laughed  good-hu- 
mouredly.  "  And  likely  enough  they  are  right,  to  thrash 
about  for  the  sweets  and  what  you  call  freedom.  But 
it  seems  to  me  ridiculous  and  undignified." 

With  these  careless  words  he  seemed  to  close  the  topic 
which  had  agitated  her  so  profoundly.  She  felt  that  she 
ought  to  have  enough  pride  and  self-reliance  to  accept 
her  difficulties  silently,  but  a  certain  feminine  dependence 
on  leadership  —  strange  to  herself  —  left  her  feeble  be 
fore  this  crisis.  She  appealed  to  him  audaciously,  cling 
ing  to  his  strength.  "  And  I  —  what  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Is  it  all  over  —  the  joy  and  the  venture  ?  " 

"  I  seem  to  have  died,  instead  of  gaining  freedom." 

"  That  word !  How  it  deceives  us  !  You  have  chased 
a  shadow." 

"You  mean?" 

"There  is  no  freedom  and  every  one  is  free.  It  is 
all  a  matter  of  feeling.  And  that  feeling  you  cannot 
command." 

"  Like  love."  She  glanced  up  at  him,  her  face  thrill 
ing  with  a  strange  idea. 

"Yes,  like  love,"  he  repeated  in  a  low  voice.  "It 
takes  us  unawares  when  we  have  given  up  the  search." 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  269 

"  Then  I  have  never  loved."  Her  inind  revolved  in  a 
new  orbit.  "  When  I  married  I  was  seeking,  seeking. 
When  I  studied,  when  I  tried  to  act,  I  was  always  seek 
ing.  And  the  more  I  have  struggled  the  farther  I  have 
gone — away,  astray.  Even  the  first  false  light  that 
shone  those  September  days  when  the  pictures  spoke, 
went,  and  I  am  left  alone  with  my  little  knowledge,  and 
nothing  else,  nothing.  It  is  like  love/'  she  repeated  at 
last. 

"Yes.  It  is  a  state  of  feeling,  of  the  spirit,  not  a 
condition  of  person." 

"  I  was  as  free  in  Chicago  as  I  am  here  ?  " 

He  nodded. 

"And  my  money  has  not  bought  it,  nor  my  body 
won  it." 

"  Nor  your  mind,"  Jennings  added  softly.  "  Nor  your 
will.  Not  any  of  these  things." 

"  It  could  come  over  there  in  the  prairie-town." 

"Or  with  the  niggers,"  suggested  Jennings  with  a 
slight  smile. 

The  new  conception  gained  hold  on  her,  while  she  sat 
staring  out  above  the  palaces  of  the  city  into  the  evening 
gloom.  At  last  she  uttered  in  a  low  moan,  —  "  After  all, 
to  be  bound,  bound  with  no  one  to  cut  the  cords ;  to  be 
bound  in  spirit  and  flesh  —  no  escape  possible.  It  is 
ghastly ! " 

"You  said  once  that  you  wished  to  burn,  to  feel. 
You  remember  that  last  night  at  Lake  Forest?" 

"  And  you  replied  — '  to  dust  and  ashes,' "  she  added 
fiercely.  "  Is  that  all  for  me  ?  " 


v/ 

270  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

She  rose  from  the  bench  with  a  sweep,  a  touch  of 
defiance  that  brought  back  her  old  impressive  self. 
She  seemed  to  say,  "You  mock  me.  Impossible  that 
I,  who  am  beautiful  and  keen  in  mind,  that  I  who 
have  striven,  am  to  become  mere  ashes."  And 
the  movement  which  challenged  him,  saying,  "  I  am 
a  woman,"  said  also,  "I  can  love.  Teach  me,  you 
new  master,  and  you  will  find  me  humble.  Take  me, 
and  make  me  over  to  fit  your  freedom."  But  he  made 
no  sign  of  acceptance,  merely  looked  back  at  her  dark 
head  with  its  flaming  eyes,  admiringly,  with  homage 
and  with  pity,  —  but  with  nothing  more.  He  knew  her 
to  the  bottom  of  her  heart  and  he  was  compassionate, 
but  he  would  not  save  her,  could  not  save  her. 

"  So  you  are  going  to  take  the  commonplace,"  she 
said  at  last,  irritably,  closing  her  eyes  and  turning  her 
face  away. 

"  Yes,  the  very  commonplace." 

"  And  nothing  tempts  you  ?  "  She  shot  a  glance  which 
searched  him,  knocking  to  find  a  hollow  sound  in  his 
protestations. 

"No." 

She  walked  away  to  the  farthest  shade  of  the  cypresses, 
thinking  with  a  pang :  "  He  will  marry  Molly.  I  am  — 
dust  and  ashes."  Then  she  was  haughty  with  herself 
for  having  craved  relief  through  him.  It  was  foolish 
for  her  to  believe  that  she  might  yet  be  taught  to  accept 
and  to  feel  again  as  children  feel.  What  could  he  do 
for  her  ?  What  had  she  to  do  with  love  ?  She  had 
never  known  the  word  until  to-night. 


THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  271 

In  an  instant  she  was  at  his  side  again.  "  You  think 
me  an  impossible  creature  to  be  shunned  ?  " 

"No.  I  was  not  thinking  of  you  in  particular,"  he 
answered  gravely.  And  she  felt  doubly  ashamed,  as 
they  descended  the  terraces  of  the  garden,  silently, 
mournfully. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THAT  evening  Molly  remarked  to  her  friend  abruptly, 
"Walter  thinks  he  wishes  to  marry  me." 

"  Well  ?  "  Mrs.  Wilbur  asked  with  quick  curiosity. 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  He  feels  badly  now,  but, 
if  it  doesn't  get  out  he  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  weeks. 
He  asked  me  to  do  it  —  marry  him  —  at  least  for  your 
sake.  But  I  told  him  I  couldn't  do  it,  even  for  you." 

"He  means  so  very  well,  Molly!"  Mrs.  Wilbur  ex 
claimed  with  some  compassion. 

"  Yes,  too  well  by  me  !  He's  been  trying  not  to  do  this 
thing  ever  since  I  have  known  you.  He  almost  slipped 
twice,  no,  three  times.  This  afternoon  he  didn't  want 
to  do  it  one  bit,  and  even  at  the  end  he  made  me  feel 
that  it  was  a  condescension  on  his  part." 

"  Oh,  Molly ! " 

"He  began  by  thanking  me  profusely  for  all  I  had 
done  for  you.  Told  me  the  family  were  very  apprecia 
tive  of  my  efforts  to  save  you  from  yourself,  and  to 
preserve  the  decencies  of  social  life." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  winced. 

"  He  said  a  great  crisis  was  coming  in  your  life  now, 
and  we  two,  Mr.  Anthon  and  I,  could  help  you  so  much 
in  case  —  " 

"  The  little  hypocrite !    Was  that  all  ?  " 
272 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FKEEDOM  273 

"Yes,  about  you  then.  I  think  the  next  event  was 
that  he  tried  to  kiss  me  before  he  had  really  said  any 
thing —  well,  definite.  He  first  took  my  hand,  then 
insinuated  his  arm  about  my  waist  —  we  were  in  a  dark 
corner  under  a  wall  —  " 

«  Molly ! " 

"Well,  we  know  him  so  well!  and  I  wanted  to  see 
what  it  is  like  to  have  love  made  in  that  way.  I  felt 
like,  —  as  if  I  were  a  maid,  a  servant.  It  was  quite 
horrid!  It  might  have  been  Pina.  When  he  reached 
a  certain  point,  just  beyond  the  proper  pressure  for  a 
waltz  — I,  I  laughed." 

She  laughed  again  at  the  memory. 

"Then  I  lectured  him  soundly.  I  began  'way  back 
with  the  beginning, — his  running  around  after  people, 
his  toadying,  his  literary  ambitions,  his  self-importance. 
I  talked  to  him  about  his  treatment  of  you  in  Paris ;  he 
merely  wanted  to  get  rid  of  you  decently.  After  that 
we  discussed  love.  I  used  some  of  Erard's  psychology. 
He  was  after  sensations  merely,  I  told  him  —  wanted  to 
know  how  it  would  feel  to  kiss  me.  He  would  be 
awfully  lugubrious  afterwards,  if  I  had  snapped  him 
up,  and  he  had  come  to  his  senses  to-morrow  to  find 
himself  engaged  to  a  poor  girl  twenty-five  years  old  with 
no  social  pulls.  I  described  to  him  how  such  a  man 
'  falls  in  love/  and  how  he  makes  a  grumbling,  fault 
finding  husband.  Oh !  I  taught  him  a  lot ! " 

She  laughed  again.  Mrs.  Wilbur  wished  to  laugh 
also,  but  restrained  herself. 

"  I  ended  by  giving  him  some  good  advice  about  him- 


274  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

self.  In  the  first  place  he  must  get  some  kind  of  princi 
ples,  just  for  convenience.  Now  he  doesn't  care  about 
anything  but  the  looks  of  things.  And  do  you  know 
what  he  said  —  he  was  very  angry  by  this  time  !  '  Why, 
Miss  Parker,  you  have  a  singular  misconception  of  me. 
How  could  I  have  all  the  friends  who  surround  me  and 
how  could  I  make  so  many  influential  connections  in  Lon 
don,  if  I  were  the  sort  of  man  you  describe?'  Actually, 
he  said  that.  Your  brother,  Adela,  is  quite  hopeless." 

"Was  that  all?" 

"  Yes,  he  was  very,  very  angry,  so  mad  he  forgot  to  be 
hurt.  It  was  the  kindest  way  to  send  him  off.  He  will 
go  back  to  London  to-morrow,  pretty  well  cured  of  an 
infatuation,  which,  he  assured  me,  had  extended  over 
five  years." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  laughed  this  time  without  scruple.  But 
after  a  time  she  said  earnestly,  "You  might  have  done 
so  much  for  him,  Molly !  " 

Molly  looked  at  her,  with  a  trace  of  contempt  in  her 
smiling  mouth.  "Do  you  think  that's  the  right  place 
for  missionary  endeavour,  Adela  ?  "  An  instant  later  she 
nestled  up  to  her  friend.  "Forgive  me,  dear.  I  am 
horrid  and  heartless." 

The  two  shed  a  few  tears.  "  We  women  never  escape 
our  affections,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  remarked  ruefully,  thinking 
of  the  afternoon.  "  Men  get  along  so  much  more  easily." 

"  I  don't  want  to  escape ! "  Molly  replied  promptly, 
and  then  blushed. 

Walter  Anthon  departed  the  next  morning  at  an  early 
hour,  leaving  behind  him,  in  a  fluent,  spiteful  little  note, 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  275 

his  last  words  to  his  sister.  He  now  made  the  final 
washing  of  his  hands  in  her  case,  and  having  pointed 
out  the  path  of  true  wisdom  and  decency,  he  left  her  to 
profit  by  the  lesson.  Mrs.  Wilbur  tossed  Molly  the  note. 
"See  what  a  rupture  you  have  made,  Molly,  between 
brother  and  sister !  " 

"The  little  beast!  He  wants  you  to  marry  Erard! 
I  didn't  think  he  was  as  bad  as  that,  or  I  should  have 
added  a  fifthly  to  my  sermon." 

"  Perhaps  he  is  right,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  asserted  drearily. 

She  wondered  where  Erard  was  these  days.  He  had 
not  written  her  from  Home,  thus  attempting  to  discipline 
her  for  her  revolt  by  neglect.  She  did  not  know  that  he 
had  returned  to  Florence,  that  he  was  quietly  biding  his 
time,  nor  that  Walter  Anthon  had  seen  him  before  he  had 
come  to  her  on  his  last  diplomatic  errand.  Indeed,  that 
errand  had  been  but  a  part  of  Walter's  scheme,  the  plan 
of  which  had  already  been  worked  out  in  the  rooms  on 
the  Piazza  San  Spirito.  The  two  men  had  come  to  an 
understanding,  during  an  hour  of  vague  fencing :  young 
Anthon  was  to  strike  first,  and  then  after  a  decent  inter 
val  Erard  was  to  conclude  the  matter. 

In  the  meantime  letters  from  the  outside  world  pene 
trated  Mrs.  Wilbur's  silence,  like  little  voices  talking 
over  her  divorce.  Strangely,  the  most  moving  one  was 
from  Mrs.  Anthon.  "That  loud  Mrs.  Stevans  has  the 
house  your  father's  money  helped  to  build.  They  are  to 
be  married  in  London,  the  papers  say,  and  when  they 
get  back  in  the  fall  they  expect  to  do  the  house  all  over 
and  put  in  all  the  pictures  and  rubbish  she's  collected. 


276  THE    GOSPEL    OF    FREEDOM 

Her  photograph  was  in  the  Sunday  Thunderer  last  week 
—  as  big  and  coarse  looking  as  ever.  ...  I  feel  old  now, 
Ada,  and  it  seems  as  though,  after  all  I  have  done  for 
my  children,  I  weren't  wanted  in  the  world.  Your 
brother  John's  wife  doesn't  like  me,  and  now  you  are 
gone,  there's  no  place  to  go  to  except  a  hotel,  and  that 
doesn't  seem  quite  respectable.  But  it  won't  be  for 
long.  .  .  » 

As  she  read  this  letter,  something  like  remorse  came 
over  Mrs.  Wilbur  for  her  harsh  and  unsympathetic  treat- 

\j 

ment  of  her  mother.  Since  the  talk  in  the  Boboli  gardens 
with  Jennings  several  illuminating  ideas  had  altered  her 
conception  of  life.  It  could  not  be  denied  that  this 
mother  was  silly  and  vulgar.  But  to  be  foolish,  to  be 
common,  was  not  the  most  hideous  crime  for  pitiable 
human  beings  to  commit,  she  had  begun  to  realize.  And 
what  had  she  gained  by  her  struggle  for  escape  ?  She 
was  drifting  now,  uncertainly.  Drifting,  her  life  must 
be,  if  she  continued  her  effort ;  drifting  on  into  a  declasse 
milieu,  where  she  would  amuse  herself  with  the  gossip 
and  fritter  of  art,  where  her  sole  object  would  be  to  enjoy  • 
and  pass  away  the  years.  She  had  learned  well  what 
that  kind  of  European  life  was  like. 

Thus  a  week,  two  weeks  passed.  Jennings  was  to 
leave  for  America  in  another  fortnight.  Erard  was  yet 
to  be  heard  from,  and  she  was  sure  that  the  day  was  not 
far  off  when  he  would  show  his  hand.  At  times  the  idea 
of  the  tie  that  bound  her  to  him  exhaled  a  strange  kind 
of  corrupt  fascination.  How  he  had  dominated  her! 
What  was  there  inside  of  him?  She  felt  a  reckless 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  277 

curiosity  to  explore  the  dark,  private  places  of  his  soul, 
to  touch  his  clammy  self  more  closely,  and  to  know  the 
worst. 

At  last  Erard  appeared  late  one  evening.  Molly  and 
Jennings  had  gone  out  in  search  of  a  cool  breeze.  As 
Mrs.  Wilbur  lay  in  the  moonlight  on  the  terrace,  she 
heard  a  soft  step  on  the  road  below  the  wall.  It  crept 
on  around  the  corner,  and  the  sound  disappeared.  She 
knew  it  was  Erard.  Soon  she  heard  his  quiet,  positive, 
yet  catlike  tread  on  the  terrace.  She  could  feel  his 
movement  behind  her ;  he  was  gaining,  coming  closer  at 
last,  and  she  lay  passive,  wondering  what  the  outcome 
would  be. 

"You  are  quite  alone?"  Erard  greeted  her  question- 
ingly. 

"  Yes,"  she  murmured,  without  betraying  either  inter 
est  or  surprise  in  his  presence.  She  took  it  for  granted 
that  he  had  just  returned  from  Rome. 

"  Such  a  heavenly  night !  "  Erard  dropped  his  glasses 
and  leaned  against  the  parapet  as  if  he  had  plenty  of 
time  for  contemplation.  He  had  accepted  the  idea  of ' 
marriage  with  its  possible  inconveniences,  yet  he  did  not 
propose  to  be  untaetful,  to  place  himself  in  the  open  by 
asking  her  to  become  Mrs.  Erard.  He  would  first  bid 
her  love  him,  as  though  he  knew  of  no  possible  union 
for  them.  That  was  a  finer  stroke,  and  if  Anthon  had 
had  sense  enough  not  to  chatter  about  their  talk,  all 
would  go  as  he  planned. 

She  was  a  fit  possession  to  have,  he  reflected,  as  he 
watched  her  white  face.  She  was  striving,  unsatisfied, 


278          THE  GOSPEL  OF  FKEEDOM 

keen-minded,  and  beautiful,  with  a  reserve  of  femi 
nine  power,  which  even  his  insinuating  wits  couldn't 
penetrate.  She  was  John  Anthon's  daughter,  and  had  a 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  from  him,  and  a  fool  of  a 
brother.  She  was  Sebastian  Anthon's  niece,  and  had  two 
hundred  thousand  from  him.  Sebastian  Anthon  was  the 
kind  old  fool  who  had  supplied  him  with  money  to  live 
on,  as  you'd  give  a  boy  pocket  money;  and  then  had 
turned  him  off  to  starve  because  he  didn't  make  enough 
of  a  sensation.  She  had  been  John  Wilbur's  wife,  and 
had  deserted  that  pompous  bourgeois  at  his  suggestion 
because  the  successful  Wilbur  was  too  much  of  a  stupid. 
He,  Simeon  Erard,  held  her  in  his  hand  as  his  ripe 
spoil. 

"  It  is  one  great  peace  here,"  he  resumed.  "  I  feel  con 
tent,  too.  So  much  that  I  have  striven  for  all  these 
years  since  you  first  began  your  help  to  me  has  come 
about.  I  have  been  asked  recently  to  contribute  a  series 
of  articles  to  the  new  International  Review.  There  is 
talk,  I  hear,  of  making  me  one  of  the  sub-editors.  That 
would  necessitate  our  living  in  Paris  part  of  each  winter. 
The  publishers  have  begun  to  print  our  book.  I  have 
the  proofs  of  the  first  volume  with  me.  We  can  run 
them  over  together  this  summer." 

He  paused,  surprised  that  she  seemed  so  languid. 
"  Doesn't  that  interest  you  any  more  ? "  he  asked  sus 
piciously. 

"  Of  course."  Mrs.  Wilbur  roused  herself.  "  I  am  glad 
to  know  that  your  efforts  are  meeting  with  their  reward. 
You  are  getting  some  of  the  prizes  in  your  game."  A 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  279 

sudden  whim  made  her  add  meaningly,  "  Now  you  can 
afford  to  look  outside;  you  can  do  something  for  your 
father.  Peter,  you  know,  is  gone.  He  died  without 
getting  the  prizes." 

She  could  hear  the  gravel  crunch  under  his  feet  as  he 
turned  swiftly  from  his  idle  stand  by  the  parapet,  but 
he  answered  tranquilly. 

"  What  have  they  to  do  with  the  matter  ?  Have  I  ever 
mentioned  them  to  you  ?  I  will  take  care  of  them  —  him, 
in  my  own  good  time.  You  do  not  understand,  Adela." 

"Oh,  no!  you  never  mentioned  them  to  me.  It  oc 
curred  to  me  that  in  this  new  life  of  success,  you  might 
have  time  and  means  —  to  take  Peter's  place." 

He  did  not  reply.  Her  remarks  seemed  to  make  little 
impression  on  him.  Instead,  he  drew  near  her,  deliber 
ately,  watching  her  steadfastly. 

"  What  I  wish  is  that  this  new  life  shall  bring  me  you." 
He  pronounced  the  words  with  slow  emphasis.  She 
remained  numb,  vaguely  repeating  his  words  to  herself. 
He  continued  slowly :  "  We  are  made  for  each  other." 
Wilbur  had  said  that.  "  You  have  the  strong  mind,  and 
you  know  what  living  means."  Too  well,  alas !  and  he 
had  taught  her  many  a  lesson.  "We  have  lived  this 
year  as  one  person.  You  know  my  thoughts;  I  know 
yours." 

He  paused  after  every  phrase.  Then  as  he  had 
planned,  he  attempted  passion.  It  was  the  right  place 
for  passion,  and  this  silent,  white  woman  with  her 
sombre  face,  who  for  once  refused  to  meet  him,  moved 
him  to  a  sort  of  self-conscious  passion.  He  trembled 


280  THE   GOSPEL   OF    FREEDOM 

slightly,  and  coming  a  step  nearer,  he  bent  over  her 
chair  and  looked  into  her  face  intently. 

"  You  are  mine,  you  are  mine,  my  lady  Adela  !  "  He 
touched  her  arms  deftly,  attempting  to  arouse  her. 
"Adela!  We  have  lived  for  one  another.  My  great 
woman!"  He  seemed  to  her  nearer,  yet  nothing  moved 
her.  She  even  looked  at  him  calmly.  His  passion  was 
clammy.  She  must  have  more  of  it,  however;  it  was 
like  a  triumph,  a  revenge  over  herself,  to  have  him  thus. 
"  We  shall  make  our  world  one  long  splendid  day  —  " 

His  arms  were  about  her  now,  and  she  felt  the  press 
ure  of  him  person  to  person,  and  the  kiss  from  his  lips. 
Then  she  awoke ;  her  breath  came  wildly.  Suddenly 
she  knew  that  he  was  aware  that  she  was  free  to  be  his 
wife.  Her  brother  had  been  in  Home.  This  was  all 
prepared.  It  was  the  final  play  in  the  game  to  reduce 
her  first,  and  make  terms,  his  terms,  later. 

"  No !  no  !  "     She  pushed  him  back  coldly. 

"You  are  mine  —  you  have  said  it  with  your  eyes, 
once,  twice,  and  now  I  take  my  own." 

"  Yes !  I  have  been  yours  in  despair,  in  reckless 
thought,  but  —  but  that  has  passed.  It  is  impossible  !  " 

He  looked  at  her  nonplussed.  She  felt  compelled  to 
explain.  "You  have  broken  me  in,  made  yourself  my 
master.  You  made  me  think  content  with  the  little 
commonplace  of  life  was  silly.  You  scoffed  at  all  the 
pitiful  efforts  of  the  others.  And  I  obeyed  you  —  I 
broke  their  laws,  thinking  to  find  peace  in  beauty  and 
enjoyment —  " 

"  Well  ?    What  do  you  want  ?  " 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  281 

"  Want ! "  she  repeated  contemptuously.  "  Everything ! 
You  lowered  me  step  by  step,  making  me  follow  you, 
work  for  you,  testing  me ;  and  if  you  had  been  enough  of 
a  man  to  have  had  pity,  to  have  loved,  then.  .  .  .  But, 
what  is  the  use  of  words  —  I  don't  love  you,  —  under 
stand.  I  feared  you,  but  I  don't  love  you.  And  I  see 
you  now  quite  clearly  without  glamour.  I  —  I  hate  the 
kind  of  man  you  have  made  yourself.  I  hate  you,"  she 
repeated  deliberately  as  he  stepped  back. 

"  No,  I  am  wrong,  I  despise  you,  as  I  would  —  I  can 
go  on  working  for  you,  admiring  your  clever  wits,  and 
helping  you  perhaps,  —  but  I  despise  you  so  heartily 
that  you  will  never  feel  it  —  "  she  stopped  exhausted. 

"  Did  I  advise  you  to  follow  this  way  of  life  ?  "  Erard 
asked,  attempting  to  regain  his  usual  imperturbability. 

"  Oh,  no !     You  would  do  nothing  so  rash." 

"  Have  I  given  you  nothing  ?  " 

"Why,  yes,  yourself.  And,  I  suppose,  I  should  be 
content  with  that.  You  have  got  out  of  life  what  you 
wanted,  including  your  poor  triumph  over  me.  But  if 
you  ever  come  to  have  the  highest  fame  you  dream  of, 
that  will  make  no  difference  to  me.  You  have  trodden 
out  every  human  feeling  in  your  body.  You  have  suc 
ceeded,  but  your  success  is  rotten,  rotten." 

Her  voice  sounded  harshly  in  the  soft  air.  A  gentle 
breeze  stirred  the  trees  overhead  and  shook  out  the  per 
fumes  of  the  flowers.  She  struggled  again  with  her  inco 
herence. 

"  It  has  taken  me  a  good  while  to  understand.  It  has 
taken  a  thousand  little  things  to  teach  me  about  you. 


282  THE   GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

But  I  have  learned!  "Now  let  me  tell  you  that  your 
analysis  is  not  always  right.  It  would  have  been  better 
not  to  wait  —  until  the  legal  side  had  been  straightened 
out,  and  we  could  marry  and  my  fortune  could  be  — 
attached.  Perhaps,  perhaps,  —  "  She  rose  and  followed 
him  to  the  parapet.  "  Once  perhaps  you  could  have  had 
me,  to  suck  out  my  life  and  throw  me  away.  Perhaps  I 
would  have  followed  you,  —  slave  I  already  was,  —  your 
mistress  and  your  adorer.  But  you  —  waited  —  until  it 
was  quite  regular.  And,  meanwhile,  you  have  made  me 
see ! " 

"  I  don't  follow  your  ravings  closely,  but  I  gather  that 
if  I  had  let  you  —  " 

"  Take  care !  Mind  your  manners  !  "  she  exclaimed 
more  calmly,  with  a  touch  of  her  old  haughtiness.  "  You 
can't  understand,  and  I  shall  not  try  to  explain.  It  is  a 
question  of  casuistry  in  a  woman's  heart  that  isn't  in 
your  field." 

"  And  can  you  explain  where  I  have  offended  you  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  am  of  no  importance,  and  it  would  take  me  a 
long  time  to  make  you  see.  But  I  will  tell  you  a  few 
things.  You  have  pushed  your  way,  you  have  taken 
what  you  want  from  the  world,  lived  off  it !  You  have 
abandoned  your  own  people,  you  have  sneered  at  your 
own  land.  And,  what  is  worse  than  all,  you  have  failed 

—  to  add  one   beautiful  thing  to  this  sore  old  world! 
You  cannot,  you  cannot !     I  did  not  know  why  —  now  I 
do.     There  is  no  blood  in  your  body,  Mr.  Simeon  Erard, 

—  no  human,  sinning,  rich  blood.     Ah !  you  know  too 
much,  and  your  knowledge  is  —  worthless." 


THE   GOSPEL  OF   FREEDOM  283 

Erard  made  no  attempt  to  stem  this  impetuous  pas 
sion.  Women  were  powder  mines,  or  brutes,  if  they  had 
any  spirit  in  them.  This  one  had  served  him  a  panther's 
trick. 

"  You  have  taught  me  to  climb  the  same  desolate  hill 
where  you  have  perched  yourself.  I  have  my  freedom 
—  I  am  alone  now  —  but  it  would  be  better  for  me  to  be 
dead,"  she  concluded  passionately. 

"  Do  you  regret  that  your  husband  has  made  it  quite 
impossible  for  you  to  play  the  prodigal  wife  ?  " 

Mrs.  Wilbur  gave  him  the  look  that  is  a  blow. 

"  You  are  so  low  that  we  need  not  discuss  my  divorce. 
Indeed,  we  need  not  alter  our  way  of  life,  so  long  as  it 
interests  me.  When  you  cease  to  amuse  my  wits,  I  shall 
give  you  notice.  Until  then  I  shall  be  glad  to  continue 
my  assistance.  And  I  think  it  will  be  easier  for  both 
of  us,  now  that  we  understand  each  other." 

"  It  might  be  better  for  your  reputation,  since  you  are 
divorced,  to  —  " 

"  Thank  you  !  You  are  tender  of  my  reputation  rather 
late.  Remember  that  you  have  taught  me  to  live  above 
such  philistine  considerations.  And  I  have  explained 
sufficiently  why  I  do  not  care  to  be  Mrs.  Simeon  Erard." 

"We  can  hardly  continue  our  former  relationship 
under  the  circumstances." 

Mrs.  Wilbur  laughed  lightly.  "  Don't  be  so  foolish  as 
to  try  the  heroic.  Be  the  very  wise  man  you  have  made 
me  believe  you  are,  and  continue  as  if  nothing  had  hap 
pened  but  a  temporary  aberration  from  reason  on  your 
part.  Or,  rather,  a  miscalculation  that  we  can  forget 


284         THE  GOSPEL  OF  FREEDOM 

soon.  And  I  may  take  myself  away  from  your  fold 
some  day." 

Erard  folded  his  arms  and  looked  at  her  sneeringly. 

"You  have  never  shown  me  quite  so  much  of  this 
theatrical  side." 

"  No  ?  We  women  have  it  about  us  somewhere,  and 
certain  topics  are  likely  to  call  it  out.  There  is  conven 
tion —  you  and  I  agree  that  is  senseless  and  boring. 
There  is  intelligence  —  you  and  I  value  that  quite  highly 
enough.  And  there  is  life  and  honour  and  love :  on  such 
matters  you  are  not  fitted  to  talk,  and  I  grow  theatrical. 
If  you  will  ring  that  bell  in  the  arbour,  Pina  will  bring 
you  some  wine  and  cigarettes.  There  are  the  voices  of 
Mr.  Jennings  and  Molly.  We  have  had  just  time  enough 
for  our  little  understanding,  Mr.  Simeon  Erard." 

She  nodded  to  him  pleasantly,  and  walked  into  the 
villa  with  a  light  step. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  night  was  so  still  and  hot  that  no  one  proposed 
to  try  for  sleep  in  close  chambers.  They  sat  in  the 
garden  watching  the  little  villages  go  out  into  darkness, 
snuffed  out  like  candles  over  the  plain  and  hills.  Only 
Fiesole,  solitary  on  its  lonely  pinnacle,  sent  one  stream 
of  steady  light  across  the  valley.  The  gloomy  palaces 
below  them  were  utterly  quiet,  as  if  empty  and  desolate. 
The  stars  in  the  heavens  shone  distantly  in  the  immense 
blackness.  At  last  the  men  strolled  down  to  the  gate, 
smoking  and  talking. 

"  I  am  so  very,  very  happy ! "  Molly  Parker  whis 
pered,  crouching  down  by  her  friend's  chair. 

"  I  was  thinking  that  I  am  so  very  sad,"  Mrs.  Wilbur 
replied  dreamily.  "  But  I  was  wrong.  I  have  sloughed 
off  a  delusion,  and  I  am  alive  again.  I  have  broken 
with  myself.  But  what  has  happened  to  Molly  ?  Is 
she  at  last  in  love  ?  " 

For  an  answer  the  younger  woman  put  her  arms  about 
Mrs.  Wilbur  and  rested  her  head  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  So  it  is  all  right,  Molly,  at  last ! " 

"  Yes,  I  knew  it  must  be,  though  I  was  afraid  and  sad 
when  I  came  away  from  Chicago." 

"  And  you  are  sure  ?  "  Mrs.  Wilbur  asked,  as  if  doubt 
ful  whether  human  hearts  were  to  be  trusted. 

285 


286  THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell  you,  nothing.  But  you  are 
so  sure!  A  word,  a  look,  and  then,  O  Adela!  there  is 
such  peace ! " 

Mrs.  Wilbur  stroked  her  face  silently.  The  heart  of 
a  child  had  lived  on  into  maturity  in  this  woman,  at 
least. 

"And  you  don't  mind  the  poverty  and  the  small 
future  ?  " 

"Adela!" 

"  And  you  think  it  will  always  be  enough  for  him  to 
put  his  arm  there  where  mine  is  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think." 

"  Yes,  that  is  better,  dear.  You  have  all  that  I  have 
striven  for.  It  has  come  to  you  unconsciously  and  natu 
rally,  like  sleep  when  you  are  tired,  or  food  when  you 
are  hungry." 

"Poor  Adela!" 

"  Oh,  no.  I  am  content.  I  have  found  out,  after  all 
my  blundering,  what  kind  of  a  world  it  is.  A  big  place ! 
One  must  not  shiver  in  it.  The  really  foolish  people  are 
those  who  struggle,  like  me,  for  what  is  only  an  idea." 

They  continued  to  hold  one  another  silently.  At  last 
Molly  Parker  spoke  mischievously.  "Perhaps  there 
won't  be  niggers  always!" 

Mrs.  Wilbur  laughed.  "  You  will  be  anxious  to  leave 
me,  to  go  back  to  America  soon  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  no,  not  leave  you — " 

"  Fes,"  Mrs.  Wilbur  repeated  with  a  sad  smile.  "  Per 
haps  I  shall  go  with  you,  after  all.  They  have  my 
blood,  the  self-same  inheritance  with  me.  In  them  and 


THE   GOSPEL   OF   FREEDOM  287 

with  them  must  I  make  my  life,  if  it  is  to  be  any 
thing." 

Molly  kissed  her  again  tearfully.  ' 

"  There  are  some  whom  I  have  made  to  suffer,"  Mrs. 
Wilbur  mused,  "and  especially  my  mother.  I  must 
learn  how  to  live." 


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